


Imperial

by sunalso



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Bloodplay, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Gun Violence, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-05
Updated: 2016-06-09
Packaged: 2018-07-12 11:09:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 21,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7100677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunalso/pseuds/sunalso
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hell changes a person. Set in a very AU S4. Things went differently for Buffy at the end of Becoming (Part 2), now she's back and the Initiative better watch out. </p>
<p>This is my Spuffy love letter to heroic bloodshed movies (think Mi:II, Wanted, The Matrix). There's violence that's very, well, violent. Including gun violence (guns aren't much of Buffyverse thing- but I'm bending bullets and all kinds of rules here). I also got some sex in my violence ;-) This is fun ride though, not dark and full of angst.  Based on a challenge at EF by Sharade, and originally written for the 20th round of Seasonal Spuffy (May 2016). </p>
<p> The character death warning doesn't apply to any of our heroes. The Initiative is a bit bigger and badder here than in canon. </p>
<p>Beta read by Gort and 13Lillies. </p>
<p>Archived at EF, AO3, and the Seasonal Spuffy LJ site ONLY.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue & Chapter 1: The Return

Prologue

 

 

The words coming out of the redhead witch’s mouth weren’t making sense.

 

“What do you mean the Slayer’s gone?” Spike snarled. That was impossible. The bint existed to guard this piece of hellmouth-adjacent real estate.

 

The boy, who he’d been forced to drag along when he’d kidnapped the witch, frowned. “Buffy’s not here anymore. Get that through whatever part of your brain isn’t completely sloshed right now.”

 

“Giles won’t say it but he thinks that, uh,” the witch wrung her fingers together. “He thinks that Buffy’s probably dead.”

 

Fury, thick and hot, erupted inside him. The pleasant haze of the booze was gone, burned away by his anger. This wasn’t how his return to this nightmare of a town was supposed to go. The Slayer was his. He was the one who would kill her, drain her dry, and dance on her bloody grave. She couldn’t be _gone_.

 

Spike spun, his fist slamming into the wall as he howled his rage. His mind was filled with her. Her laugh, her shining golden hair, the quips that spilled from her while she flowed flawlessly through a fight. The way her hand wrapped around a stake.

 

Buffy couldn’t have just...ended.

 

He shouted and howled, ranting pointless threats at a world that didn’t have her in it.  Curses fell from his lips and he heaped them on the Powers and her Watcher for not protecting her, and the girl herself for not staying safe and alive. For not waiting for him to bring her death.

 

The burnt wooden dresser was pulverized beneath his hands. Spike raked gashes into the walls, tore at the floor, and destroyed every object he could get his claws on, all for the sin of it still existing when she didn’t.

 

The vampire’s temper finally departed when the room was at last in complete shambles. He was left shaken and unexplainably bereft.  The witch and boy were still there, cowering in a corner. Spike had to leave, had to get away from this place and the crater of anguish it’d become.

 

Something was broken deep inside him and it _hurt_.  It wasn’t something that understood thought or reason. It was blood screaming that the world was wrong.

 

The vampire grabbed his captives by their shoulders and propelled them up the stairs, avoiding the rickety ones, and out into the night. He left them standing, their mouths agape, on the sidewalk.

 

Spike had to run, had to flee. He gunned the DeSoto’s engine and pointed the car’s front bumper away from the hellmouth. But no matter how many miles of asphalt he put between himself and Sunnydale’s cheerful Welcome Sign, the pain still hounded him.

 

He missed his girl.

 

****

 

Chapter 1: The Return

 

It's so magical

          -Lady Gaga, “Paparazzi”

 

****

 

The hulking shape of the mansion loomed over Crawford Street. Giles hated the place, this monstrosity that had swallowed his Slayer. Still he came. At first it’d been once every few days, then once a week, then every two, and now a year and a half later he managed to make it at least every month. He came to remember and honor the girl that had given everything to stop the world from descending into hell.

 

Gripping a vase full of fresh flowers, he made his way through the tangled weeds to a side door. It opened easily when he pushed it. Inside the house, dust motes drifted lazily. The dim light turned everything the same shade of muted gray. The late autumn heat clung to the stale air, stifling his breath and making him sweat. Giles made his way to the great room that contained the now inert statue of Acathla. His footsteps echoed in the cavernous space.

 

Buffy had no grave. To the world she was an unsolved missing persons case, just another teenage runaway. It had broken Giles to lie to Buffy’s weeping mother, but the truth, that Buffy had been sucked into an unreachable hell dimension while saving the world, had been too fantastical to try and explain. Instead, he’d concocted a story about Buffy and Angel last being seen leaving town together. He suspected Joyce believed that Angel had kidnapped or killed her daughter. Which was true enough, in its own way.

 

Giles cleaned and dusted the end table that served as a memorial. There was a picture of the Slayer with a wide smile on her face, as well as the few other things of hers that he’d been able find: a change of clothes she’d kept in the library, her school notebooks, some ponytail holders with wisps of blonde hair still clinging to them. He knew it was pathetic, but it was all he had. Her weapons had all been taken by Kendra and her new Watcher, Wesley, when the other Slayer had moved permanently to Sunnydale.

 

Giles flipped open one of the notebooks, smiling at the girlish handwriting and all the little doodles of hearts in the margin with A+B written inside. At least she’d been happy for a brief moment. He’d always known she’d be taken from the world too soon, but barely seventeen seemed like a bad joke. Sighing, he let the notebook cover fall closed. Had she lived she would have started college this year, roomed in the dorms, gone to parties. He chuckled to himself. She’d also have been slaying demons and averting apocalypses left and right. Probably things not very amenable to maintaining great grades in English 101.

 

_Well, Buffy_ , _I’ll see you next month._  

 

The earthquake hit just as he stepped outside the mansion. The ground heaved and bucked, knocking Giles off his feet. From inside the house he heard a crash. Groaning, he picked up his glasses that had been knocked off in the shaking, and climbed stiffly to his feet. Something felt off: the world had changed. Cautiously, he walked back into the house, the hot air clinging to him and tasting of spent magic. He stood for a moment in the great room, waiting on he didn’t know what. The altar that served a Buffy’s memorial had oddly remained untouched by the ground’s shaking. The picture and flower vase were still upright.

 

The sound of quick steps deeper inside the mansion made his heart start to hammer. It seemed he was no longer alone.

 

As quietly as he could, Giles crept along the hallway towards the sound. The door at the end of the narrow space stood ajar, letting in brilliant sunlight. A figure moved between the door and the windows. A moment's hesitation, then Giles stepped into the sunbathed room. The furious beating of wings made him jump as two doves flew up from nearly under his feet. Cooing, they fluttered through a broken pane of glass to rise into the bright blue sky.

 

His eyes searched the room. A women stood at the far end, her back to him. Long blonde hair tumbled in waves to her waist. A deep purple dress hugged her shoulders and hips before cascading to her knees. Leather boots with a low heel were laced up her calves. Slowly, she turned to face him. It wasn’t a human face. Eyes completely silver glowed softly among the pronounced, but smooth planes of cheek and forehead. Behind ruby red lips a pair of small fangs hung. But this was no vampire, the sunlight caressed her skin. The creature’s compact body was feminine in its curves, but as the demon prowled towards him it emanated an enormous amount of strength. It stopped, cocking its head to one side, breathing deeply through its nose.

 

 That nose, he knew that nose.

 

“Buffy?” Giles asked, hope making his voice brittle.

 

The creature leisurely tilted its head the other direction, regarding him.

 

“No one calls me that,” it said in a melodious tone.  His hope faded.

 

“Then may I ask whose presence I am in?” He took a step back from its advance, terror awakening in the pit of his stomach. Power was radiating from this creature like a furnace.

 

“I am the Empress.”

 

_Oh, dear lord_ , _a Demon Empress_.

 

Not much was known about them. They were the kind of thing the Watchers spoke of in hushed tones after a lot of whisky. They were a tale to scare impressionable newbies. Ruthless, with power beyond imagination, it was rumored that they held absolute sway over all other demons. From there the talk usually devolved into bawdy jokes to defuse the tension of imagining a creature with the unwavering loyalty of all the creatures of darkness. Luckily, any Empresses that existed supposedly did so in hell dimensions populated entirely by demons, where they held absolute sway.

 

The creature crossed its arms, tapping one clawed finger against its chin. Silver eyes narrowed at Giles.

 

“You are familiar,” it said. “You will tell me who you are.” It was a command.

 

“I will,” Giles hedged. “But first I must know what a Demon Empress is doing here in Sunnydale.”

 

Silver eyes flashed. “Do not presume to tell me what to do, human, your insolence should mean your death.”

 

“Yes, yes, off with my head.” Giles was gambling. The creature wanted information and he was betting on its curiosity to keep him alive.

 

Clawed hands fisted, then relaxed again with obvious effort. “I come to this place in order to free the slaves and punish their captors, as it has been foretold. This time and place is also that in which I will find my destined mate, he that is meant to rule at my side.”  

 

Impatiently, the Empress gestured at him.

 

He took a deep breath, struggling not to stutter beneath her intense glare. “My name is Rupert Giles. I am a member of a group known as The Watcher’s Council. As such I am well informed about many aspects of the magical and supernatural, including at least a little about your kind. Perhaps I can help you to fulfill your duties here, and subsequently aide you to return to the realm that is your home.”

 

“Giles?” it asked. He nodded. Suddenly the angular planes of the creature’s face shifted and receded, the fangs retracted. An achingly familiar face, awash with anguish, was left behind.

 

“Buffy?” he whispered. He staggered back as the girl wrapped her arms around him in a fierce hug. “What happened Buffy? When? How?”

 

She looked up at him, not letting go. “How long?” she asked, her voice quavering.

 

“Eighteen months,” he said. A year and a half of grief now punctuated by her return. The corners of his mouth turned up tentatively.

 

Laughter, dark and bitter, poured from her lips. “Six hundred years,” she said, then stepped back, dashing the tears from her cheeks. “I can’t remember much from before. What the people I love look like. That faded first.” She looked straight into his eyes. “Hell has taken almost everything from me.”

 

“Buffy,” Giles said very quietly.  “I need to know…”

 

“Watcher, don’t you recognize a Slayer when you see one?” Her face shifted again, back to planes and angles. “I had to get in touch with her real fast once I landed on the other side of that portal. I needed all of the demon, not just the bits and pieces that activated when I was called. It turns out I’m really freaking amazing.”  

 

Giles was shocked. He knew that Slayer powers had a demonic origin, but not that they were tied to an actual demon buried within the girl.

 

“And how, how did you, end up as-”

 

“An Empress?” The Slayer grinned maliciously. “I fought.” She turned away from him, running one claw tipped finger along the wall as she drifted through the room. “For five hundred years I fought. Day by day, just trying to stay alive in the beginning, then to defend the piece of territory I called my own, then to take away land from others. I fought until the whole world trembled at my feet and the power of an Empress became mine. Then I fought for fun.” She gave him a teasing smile over her shoulder. “The intrigues of my court keep me busy now, for while none stand against me there are many factions at war with each other.” A little sigh. “But always I am alone on my throne. I wish for one to share my fate with me. This strange place is where I will find him.”

 

“You’re lonely,” Giles felt sympathy for her. Buffy had always been so alone in her calling. Angel, before he’d lost his soul, had been a brief reprieve. Had Willow’s spell worked he’d have thought Angel would have fought at Buffy’s side, but perhaps Angelus had simply been another impediment in her rise to power. In his fantasies he’d sometimes imagined Angel and Buffy overcoming all odds and returning from hell together, but obviously that wasn’t what had happened.

 

 There was also the sting of knowing that she wouldn’t, couldn’t, stay in Sunnydale. The power of an Empress could only be relinquished by death. The drive to conquer and rule would always be there. She needed her throne, or she would make a new one, not stopping until all of Earth bowed before her. They had only so much time to rescue whoever she was talking about and to find her mate. Giles racked his brain, but he could think of no creature worthy of assuming that role.  

 

From across the room the Slayer was cocking her head at him. She blinked and then was moving so fast he didn’t have time to dodge as she leapt across the room and grabbed his chin in one hand, forcing him down to kneel before her. She brought her face close to his, her eyes turning from silver to searing flame. Giles couldn’t look away, the burning gaze seemed to be looking not at him but through him, leaving everything he was bare to her.

 

Finally, she pushed him away and he was suddenly cold. “You are not he,” the Slayer said in disappointment.

 

“No,” he agreed. “I suppose not.” He got back to his feet. “I don’t really know if I can help you with that part, except to say it’s unlikely your mate is human. However, the other part about freeing slaves I may know something about. Will you let me help you?” It was a very dangerous game he was playing, but he couldn’t in good faith have a Demon Empress wandering around unsupervised. Constantly being reminded of the girl she once was would most likely render her less of a danger than leaving her completely to her own devices. Something of the Buffy he’d once known remained in there, he was hoping it was enough to keep the world safe.

 

The Empress stood considering him, then the face of the Slayer shifted back to that of Buffy. “Okay,” she agreed with a little nod.  

 

She followed him, pausing briefly as she passed the memorial. Her hands ghosted over the items but she didn’t pick anything up. From the vase of flowers she plucked a pink rose. Giles lips thinned as he watched her magic infuse the long stem of the flower. It shed its thorns and twined gently around the Empress’ wrist. With a faint smile she brought the bloom to her nose, breathing in the scent. 

 

She gestured that he should continue.

 

They walked out to the car and he opened the passenger door for her. Gracefully she got in, making sitting down into his old car look regal. During the drive to his apartment she was constantly scanning their surroundings, giving little startled gasps as they passed Sunnydale landmarks as pedestrian as the supermarket and the shoe store. Buffy didn’t ask any questions and Giles didn’t want to interrupt her reverie. He was hoping it was happy memories she was dredging up.

 

Giles opened the door to his apartment, letting them into the cluttered interior. Buffy looked around, seemingly at a loss for what to do. Perhaps tea would be a good way to start.

 

“Oi! Watcher, that you? Getting a little peckish in here!”

 

Good lord, he’d forgotten about Spike.

  
The clank of the chains against the bathtub was brash. The vampire called again, this time in a much less cocky voice: “Watcher? Who’s that you got with you?”


	2. Bound

Leather and jeans

            -Lady Gaga, “Paparazzi”

 

****

 

Spike’s instincts were screaming at him to run. What had Giles dragged home with him? Power and authority swirled in the air thicker than oil.

 

The source of all that heady sensation was quickly approaching his prison. The vampire braced himself. He expected almost anything except the slip of a girl that stormed into the bathroom, an out of breath Giles on her heels.

 

Spike’s eyes widened to the point of nearly falling out. “Buffy?” he asked, then looked past her to Giles. “Where did you sodding discover her? They got a Slayer lost and found now?”

 

Posture rigid, Buffy shifted her face to that of the Slayer, the unleashed magic and power snapping across his senses like a whip. He shrank back against the tub, yelping in surprise. “Bloody hell!”

 

“Yes,” the Slayer said in a flat monotone. “I know hell.” She rounded on Giles, a clawed hand easily lifting him by the neck and slamming him against the bathroom wall. “Why do you have this vampire chained within this dwelling? Is he your slave?”

 

Throat clenched in her fist, Giles could only weakly shake his head no.

 

“What?” Spike sputtered “His slave? I’m nobody’s slave, luv. I’m my own man, just a tad tied up at the moment is all.”

 

The Slayer turned her head to look at him. “Quiet,” she hissed and Spike instantly fell silent.

 

Slightly loosening her chokehold on Giles, she asked him again: “Is this vampire your slave? I tell you I am sent to free demon slaves, you offer to help me, then I find that in your own abode you chain and starve this demon. Why should I not kill you?”

 

“We’ve been trying to help him.” Giles managed to say around the vice of the Slayer’s grip. “He was captured by the Initiative and they implanted a chip.” The Slayer looked askew at him. “Uh, a little machine, in his brain that won’t let him fight or harm things. He came to us for help; we feed and protect him, but we don’t trust him.”

 

“Is this true?” the Slayer asked Spike.

 

The urge to lie and watch this magnificent creature snap the Watcher’s neck like kindling was strong, but he couldn’t get the words past his lips. She probably wasn’t the sort to appreciate a lie.  He sighed “Yeah, the ponce is telling the bleeding truth. This little beauty in my noggin is keeping me from killing. Pig’s blood is better than none, and the white hats have kept the soldier boys off my tail. I help as I can, info and stuff.”

 

The Slayer dropped Giles to the floor, where he sat rubbing the bruises on his neck.  “Buffy, the Initiative is what I believe you’ve been sent here to stop. They’ve been collecting demons and performing experiments on them. Spike is the only source of information on them that we have.”

 

“Does the hellmouth have no Slayer? Does she and her Watcher not know of this… Initiative?” Buffy sat down on the edge of the tub. Spike squirmed uncomfortably, his vampiric senses were screaming Slayer and danger, but at the same time there was a feeling of awe.

 

Oh, bloody hell, she was an Empress!

 

Spike swallowed hard, fear clawing at his throat. He should be cowering on hands and knees, begging her forgiveness for even having dared to look upon her majesty. He was both terrified and deeply aroused by the slip of a girl that was seated mere inches from him. It was all very confusing.

 

Giles was speaking: “I don’t suppose you remember Kendra? You met her before you, ah, left.” The Slayer shook her head. “Well, both she and her Watcher are very…orthodox, in their approach to the minutiae of slaying.”

 

“They’ve both got bloody sticks up their asses is what he means.” Spike chimed in.

 

“They are working with the Initiative to hunt demons,” Giles continued, his gaze dropping to the tiled floor. “After Kendra was nearly killed by Drusilla, her attitude hardened.”

 

“Only good demon is a dead demon and all that rubbish.”  Spike continued to fidget nervously, making the chains clink against the porcelain side of the tub.

 

“Vampire.” The Slayer turned her intense silver eyes on Spike. “I will need allies. I would have you as one for the knowledge you possess of my foe.”

 

“Does it involve getting out of this bathtub?”

 

The Slayer nodded.

 

“Right, then I’m your man.” He didn’t want her to know how badly he wanted to be near her, to serve her. He was a moth and she the bright shining flame.

 

“Wait,” Giles said. “Can we talk about this first?”

 

“No.” The Slayer brought her wrist to her mouth, sinking her fangs into the artery there. As soon as the smell of blood hit the air Spike vamped out, lunging towards her. Giles jumped back, but the Slayer didn’t even blink. Calmly she brought her wrist to his fangs. He latched on, using his own hands to keep her arm there. The Empress’ blood washed down his throat, warm and heady. He whimpered against her arm. “Shhh, shhh,” she cooed at him, running her free hand over his hair. “I remember you.” The Slayer looked down at the vampire sucking at her wrist. “You helped me, when I was here before.”

 

“He helped you?” Giles asked.

 

“Yes, just before I was taken to my home.”

 

“Well, wonders never cease.” Giles shook his head. “Spike, don’t you think that’s enough?” The vampire growled, sucking harder at the wound.

 

The Slayer continued to pet Spike’s hair. “He can have as much as he wants, I long ago lost the ability to die from exsanguination.”

 

“Yes, I see. I think I’ll go to the living room and call some others who might be able to help.”

The Empress inclined her head, dismissing him.

 

Spike continued his meal, the Slayer sitting patiently on the edge of the tub. He drew his knees up, trying to hide the effect both her nearness and her blood were having on his body. With a knowing smile the Empress leaned forward and settled her free hand over the bulge in his jeans. She stroked him hard through his pants and he came nearly instantly.

 

“I take care of what’s mine,” she whispered, her gaze intense.  

 

At last Spike’s demon face fell away, and he licked tenderly at her wrist as the Slayer let the wound heal. He leaned back, staring dreamily up at the ceiling. The world was perfect, and he knew his place in it now and what he was meant to do.  He turned and looked at the demon sitting on the edge of the tub. Glorious was what she was, radiant. He’d serve her until he dusted, whether that was tomorrow or ten thousand years from now. The chains clattered as Spike held his bound hands out to her in supplication. Leaning over him, the Slayer hooked her claws under the shackles and parted the metal like it was nothing but wet tissue paper. Rising, she indicated the vampire should clean himself and follow her.

 

Spike walked behind the Slayer as she strode down the hallway, lithe and regal. Sinking gracefully into the living room chair she beckoned the vampire closer. “Can you find me sustenance?” He nodded and headed into the kitchen.

 

“You got anything to eat in here Watcher?” Spike growled, banging cupboards and drawers open and closed.

 

“Not really, Xander’s bringing pizza,” he replied.

 

“Pizza?” Spike was aghast. “You can’t feed pizza to an Empress!”

 

“Buffy liked it a great deal, and since she hasn’t had any in 600 years I think we should at least let her try it. Besides, I’m all out of Foie Gras and Filet Mignon at the moment. So, in the words of today’s teenagers: deal with it.”  

 

Scowling, Spike grabbed a bottle of water out of the fridge. Taking the lid off he handed it to the Slayer, then sank down to sit at her feet. After a moment he leaned over just enough to rest his head against her knee. The Empress smiled down at him, running her claws gently through his hair again.

 

 Giles came out of the kitchen, eyes uneasy as he watched them. “Lady,” the Watcher said after a moment. “Perhaps it would be best if you greeted everyone as Buffy. These people were once friends of yours.”  A pause, and the Slayer let her human visage slip into place. Spike couldn’t decide which face he liked better. The clink of glass indicated that Giles was pouring himself another scotch. The vampire almost felt sorry for the sod, he was really going to need that drink.

 

****

 

Xander was starving. He hoped the three large pizzas he’d grabbed would be enough for everyone. Walking towards the front door of the apartment with Anya, he saw that Willow and Oz were just about to knock.

 

“Hey, wait up!” he called.

 

“Hi!” Willow said. “Any idea what this is about? Giles sounded pretty weird on the phone.”

 

“Maybe bleach boy finally gave up some useful information,” Xander said. “It’d be nice to be ahead of the Initiative for five seconds.”

 

“I second that.” Oz nodded his head once, emphatically. The werewolf had been getting increasingly nervous about the commandos. Xander shuddered to think of him ending up as a science project down in their lab.

 

“We’re never going to solve anything out here,” Anya said, reaching past them to bang on the door. “Open up, we’re hungry!”

 

Giles cracked the door open, looking at the four eager faces. “I have to warn you before I let you in, because this is somewhat of a shock, but I found Buffy.”

 

“What?” Xander cried, pushing past Giles before he could say any more. He came to a sudden halt a few steps inside, the pizza boxes hitting the floor. That was Buffy, really Buffy, only she was dressed like a slutty renaissance fair reject and Spike was sitting at her feet, apparently being petted. There were gasps behind him as the others piled inside.

 

Buffy didn’t move, just cocked her head to the side to examine the newcomers. “You do not look like a promising army. The witch has power, but it is not yet fully tapped. The werewolf is strong during his change, but is too young to control it. You other two would be good only as cannon fodder.” There was a moment of stunned silence. “Names,” Buffy demanded.

 

“What’s going on?” Xander managed to squeak. His friend’s green eyes were cold, no spark of recognition. He shuffled forward another couple of steps. “Buffy?”

 

Spike sprang to life, fangs and ridges showing. He was in Xander’s face, snarling: “On your knees in the presence of your betters.”

 

“But, it’s Buffy.” He leaned back from the irate vampire. “And why aren’t you chained?” Xander squared his shoulders. “It’s not like you can do much of anything with that hardware in your head, Johnny Five.”  Xander went to walk around the vampire, batting away the hand Spike held out to bar him.  With a whimper of pain from the firing chip Spike grabbed Xander’s shoulder and wrenched him back a few steps. The vampire clutched at his head even as he forced himself in between Xander and Buffy again.

 

Xander started to push Spike out of the way again when Buffy’s voice rang out. “Stop.”

 

Anya was at his Xander’s side immediately, yanking on his shirt. “Kneel, kneel now.”

 

“What, not you too?” He just wanted to see his friend that he’d missed very much.

 

“Kneel before you die, you idiot.” Anya managed to pull him down to his knees, then she fell forward onto her hands as well, prostrating herself.

 

Xander looked back towards Buffy, only it wasn’t Buffy anymore. Her eyes glowed a soft silver, and her face had become all flat planes and sharp angles.

 

She glided towards them. “Once I was Buffy, your friend, but that was many centuries ago for me. I do not remember your faces. I may remember your names.” She stopped beside the kneeling Spike, who was still holding a palm to his temple. Gently she ran a hand over the vampire’s head, the bloom of a pink rose entwined around the wrist. He sagged in relief. She bent down and whispered something in his ear. He nodded, stood, and gathered up the pizza boxes before heading to the kitchen.

 

Buffy strode to Oz, grabbing his face by the chin. “I am the Empress. I am here to free the slaves held by the Initiative and to find my mate.” Xander was stunned. Empress? Centuries? Mate? Buffy looked back down at Oz. “Name?”

 

“Daniel Osborne. Mostly I’m called Oz.”

 

Buffy nodded and her eyes turned to flame, locked with the werewolf’s. After a few moments she pushed him back. “You are not he.”

 

“Wow. That was…intense.” Oz slumped towards the floor.

 

Buffy turned to Willow. “Your name, witch.”

 

“Um, Willow Rosenberg?” It sounded more like a question than an actual statement.

 

Buffy’s face shifted back to her human one. “Willow?” The redhead nodded. Buffy grabbed her friend in a hug. “Oh god, Willow. I missed you so much. I was so alone. I’d pretend I was talking to you, telling you about everything that was going on. I can’t believe you’re really here.”

 

Willow wrapped her arms around her friend. “I’m sorry Buffy. I’m sorry I wasn’t there, or that I couldn’t bring you home. What happened to Angel? Did the spell work or was he still Angelus?”

 

“Angel?” Buffy looked confused for a moment. “Oh, yes. He died a few weeks after we arrived. Your spell worked, he did have his soul.” She paused and sighed. “He was useless.” There was a snort from the direction of the kitchen. “He kept trying to fight for me, not beside me, and he was reluctant to connect with his demon and bring it to the battle. He dusted quickly and I was better off without him as he would have kept me from finding my Slayer side.” She shrugged. “It was all a long time ago.” Gently she set Willow back on her feet and shooed her towards a seat on the couch.

 

Xander cringed as Buffy stepped in front of him, her Slayer mask back in place.  She looked at him expectantly.

 

“Xander Harris,” he mumbled. Buffy cocked her head to the side, then shook her head.

 

“I’m sorry, I don’t remember you. Were you my friend, too?”

 

He nodded.  “How long have you been gone, Buffy?”

 

“Six centuries.”

 

He gasped. She grabbed his chin and her eyes turned to fire. Xander felt his insides sear. Oh god, she was going to know everything, like how he sometimes ate cheese dipped in ketchup. It felt like forever before she pushed him away.

 

“You are not he.” The Empress turned to Anya. “And you?”

 

“I’m Anya, you didn’t know me before,” she said, remaining prostrate on the floor.

 

“Why are you different?”

 

“I was a vengeance demon for more than a millennium before I lost my power. Now I’m human.”

 

Buffy made a choking noise. “That has to be horrible!”

 

“It is, but I’m learning to adapt.”

 

There was a pause. “I may be able to restore it.” Xander’s stomach lurched. For a while now he’d suspected that he had actual warm and fuzzy love-type feelings for Anya and if she got her power back she’d leave him and he’d never know if those love-type emotions could grow into actual love.

 

Anya shook her head. “I’m okay with how things are right now, Empress. I’m not, strictly speaking, turning you down, but I need some more time to think about it.”

 

“Of course.” Buffy benevolently inclined her head. She returned to her chair, where Spike was standing with a plate loaded with pizza and a new bottle of water. The Empress waved her hand. “You all may sit and enjoy the repast. We shall discuss this Initiative.” She accepted the plate and smiled hugely at the first bite. “This is really good!”

 

Xander chuckled. “Pepperoni, fit for a Queen. Wait until you try the Hawaiian!”

 

Spike glared at Xander as the vampire returned to his knees beside Buffy.

 

“So what’s with Pentium Boy?” Xander asked around a mouthful of pizza, pointing a greasy finger at Spike.

 

“He is mine,” Buffy said, her voice cold.

 

Giles sat on the arm of the couch. “Let me explain.” Buffy frowned, then nodded her assent. “Buffy, as a Demon Empress, holds the loyalty of any demon she comes across. Spike would be naturally inclined to serve her, but in this case he has knowledge of the Initiative that is important to Buffy’s mission, so she has formally bound him to her, with his consent.” Giles looked pointedly at Xander. “He is her servant, yes, but his life and well-being are in her hands. She will not tolerate him being…interfered with, in any way.”

 

“He is mine,” Buffy pronounced again, obviously closing the matter. Spike’s face relaxed into an expression of bliss and he leaned his head against Buffy’s knee. She smiled at him and paused in her eating to stroke her fingers across his face. “Now, I wish to be informed about this Initiative.”

 

****

They’d talked for several hours, laying out everything they knew about the Initiative, which wasn’t very much. Spike had reluctantly recalled as many details as he could from his time imprisoned there. He’d kept his eyes trained on his Empress the entire time, not wanting to see the Scoobies’ alternating looks of pity or near glee as he described his torture and eventual chipping. The Empress’ expression had hardened and quickly shifted from angry to downright furious.

 

Spike at last had felt vindicated. As the others had continued to talk, Buffy had leaned down to his ear and whispered: “They will pay.” The vampire knew it was no empty promise.

 

Finally, the others had left. Even Giles, who’d said something about a twenty-four hour coffee shop and a need to clear his head.

 

Tomorrow night they would all meet up again and go hunting for the Initiative’s base. The only clue they had as to its location was that Spike had climbed out of an air vent on the campus of Sunnydale University, so they would start there.

 

Buffy had remained seated, her fingers idly running through his hair again. He knew it was a riot of curls from her combing, but he didn’t care, especially because earlier in the night she’d found his duster and insisted that he wear it. Spike felt much more himself with the leather around him where it belonged.

 

“Spike,” she finally said.

 

“Yes, your Grace?”

 

“Do you have any idea as to where I should hunt for my mate?”

 

Spike bit back a growl. He’d realized that he’d have to end up serving whatever tosser was her mate as well as her, but the thought left him uneasy. At least it hadn’t been Harris. That would have been a fine kettle of fish. Hawaiian shirts and bad hair cuts for all eternity. Spike took a calming breath and made sure his voice would be even before he spoke. “There are several places demons gather in this town, though they are much fewer than before, I would suggest starting there. I can show them to your Grace. There’s also a good chance your mate is a resident in an Initiative cage.”

 

“Just another reason to act quickly and crush them into oblivion.”

 

Spike nodded.

 

The Empress wrapped her palm around his cheek. “Let me do something for you.”

 

“Anything.”

 

“It may hurt some.”

 

He waited patiently. Her hand, the petals of the pink rose fluttering slightly, drifted from his cheek to the side of his head. Spike winced as her claws dug into his scalp. There was a buzzing in his ear and a sharp twinge inside his skull that made his vision white out. When it cleared Buffy’s fist was in front of his face. She turned her hand palm side up and unclenched her fingers. Lying there was a tiny piece of plastic with a few wires connected to it.

 

The chip!

 

With a howl of delight Spike jumped to his feet and snatched the chip from her palm. He threw it to the floor and stomped in into fragments.  He laughed, arms stretched out.

 

The Empress was smiling as well. “Vampire,” she said.

 

Instantly he dropped to one knee before her, head bowed.

 

“I have done this thing in good faith. Drink from no others but me on this plane, kill none beside those I tell you to or that seek to kill you. This is important to me.”

 

“Yes, your Grace.” He would fly to the moon or fetch her the Holy Grail if she asked.

 

The Empress sighed and slumped in her chair. “This has been a long, strange, and trying day.”

 

“I imagine so, your Grace.” He risked peeking up at her. She wore her glorious demon face, but he could still see the anxiety that troubled her. “I…I could make it better for you, if you wish…”

 

Her head tilted towards him and she regarded him for a moment. “Remove my boots.”

 

Gently, he loosened the laces of one boot and pulled it from her foot. He massaged her instep with firm strokes and was gratified to hear her groan. Stripping off her stocking he was delighted to find her toenails painted bright pink. Perhaps the girl she’d once been wasn’t buried so deeply after all. He repeated the process so that both her feet were bare. She stretched and wiggled her toes against the rough denim of his jeans.

 

Carefully, in case he’d read the situation wrong, he began pushing her deep purple skirt up her legs. “Let me make it better,” he whispered.

 

The Empress sunk even further back in the chair, wiggling her hips towards him. “Mmm, that sounds wonderful.” 

 

He shifted to his demon face and pushed her skirt all the way up. No underwear barred his way. The sight of her dark blond curls and soft pink flesh nearly undid him. Spike hooked his arms under her knees and pulled her legs over his shoulders. With a growl he nuzzled his face into her sex, licking and nipping at her tender flesh. His fangs cut her in a few places and her rich blood mixed with the intoxicating taste of her cream.

 

Her hands grasped at his leather clad shoulders and her bare feet rubbed up and down his back as he worked to make it perfect for her. He’d make it so good that even after she was tied to some git of a mate she’d still crave his tongue on her.

 

After she’d cried out several times, the last one satisfyingly being his name, Spike reached to free his aching cock.

 

Her foot stopped him. She ran her pinked tipped toes over his confined erection. “Uh-uh. No touching until I say so.” He looked up at her and she ran a finger over his lips, bringing it back to her own mouth to lick off.  “And when you do, I want to watch.”

 

Spike groaned. His Empress really was the perfect woman.


	3. Goodbye Iowa

My lashes are dry

            -Lady Gaga, “Paparazzi”

****

A couple of hours, one blueberry muffin, and several cups of black coffee later, Giles returned to his apartment. He still wasn’t sure helping Buffy was the right thing to do, but no matter how he looked at it he came to the same conclusion: it was the safest. An Empress left strictly to her own devices without counsel could render most of the California coastline unrecognizable on a whim. 

He let himself into the apartment. The lights were out and there was no sign of Buffy or Spike. Good Lord, surely the vampire wouldn’t have taken her out anywhere. Though he might have had very little choice if she’d ordered him to. Giles groaned, there was no telling where they could have gotten off to. 

He trudged up the stairs, loosening his tie. In the darkness he nearly ran into Spike.

“She’s resting, Watcher. Better you go back the way you came and make your bed on the couch tonight.” The vampire’s voice was low and menacing.

“Lost my room, have I?”

Spike shifted into his demonic face. “Go, Watcher,” he hissed around his fangs. 

It was the last straw. He would not be threatened by any vampire, especially not this one, and most certainly not in his own home. He pulled a stake out of his jacket pocket. “I’m sure the Empress can find another guard dog.”

“Oh, bloody hell, none of that.” Spike grabbed Giles’ wrist and twisted until the Watcher grunted in pain and dropped the stake into the vampire’s waiting palm. 

“How did…you shouldn’t…” Giles stumbled backwards a step.

Spike’s fanged grin looked macabre in the low light. “Oh, by the way, Rupes, this dog got its muzzle off.” 

Buffy had removed his chip. Giles pulled his glasses off and pinched the bridge of his nose. Of course she would have. Spike was of much more use to her as a fighter than a gofer. 

“I’ll just sleep on the couch, then.” He turned to descend the stairs.

“Spike?” Buffy’s muffled voice came from the bed behind him. 

Giles looked over his shoulder in time to see the vampire sink to one knee beside the bed. “Yes, your Grace?”

“This world is strange. I miss my home.” Her voice was tiny and Giles’ heart broke. There was the girl, hidden under all that power. The girl that’d worried about fitting in, that was frightened of being alone.

Spike grasped her hand in both of his. “This world used to be your home, luv, you’ve just been gone a long time. You’ll get it fixed up right, it needs you. Your chums too, they’re so happy to see you.” His voice was soft and soothing. 

“When I go home Spike, will you come with me?”

“I’d follow you anywhere.”

“Thank you.” The vampire bowed his head over their joined hands, looking incongruously like he was praying. 

With a shake of his head Giles returned to his living room. He snapped the light on over his desk. With all that coffee he was never going to be able to sleep. Scanning his shelves, he found the copy of a thirteenth century manuscript he was looking for. It was one of the few that spoke of Demon Empresses as more than a fairy tale. Above him the bed dipped and the springs squeaked slightly in protest. He shot the loft an alarmed look, but everything quieted back down immediately. 

Well, he supposed it was good at least someone was getting some rest. 

****

Buffy woke up in a panic. She wasn’t alone. Only that couldn’t be. No one was allowed in her sleeping chambers. She started to sit up and the arm around her tightened. 

“Not yet, luv, not yet,” a voice murmured from beside her. She turned. Spike. Her whole body relaxed. Of course. She’d been alone in the night, and far from home, and she’d asked the vampire to hold her. She felt silly now. A centuries old Empress did not need a…man to put his arms around her in order to feel safe. She couldn’t tell if he was awake or not. 

“Spike?” she asked softly. He shifted and his whole body pressed against her. A smile curved her lips as it became apparent at least some parts of him were awake. The vampire hadn’t disappointed her the night before, when she’d finally felt sated and had given him permission to touch himself. Despite his obvious need for release he’d made sure she’d watched him as he slowly undid his fly, pushed his pants partway down his thighs, and fisted his not unimpressive erection. She been tempted to pull him back to her and make good use of him, but she had her future mate to think of. While her destined man was a nebulous mystery at the moment, she would find him in the next day or two, and there were some lines she should not cross before then. So she’d simply watched her vampire’s jaw clench as he’d brought himself off with deft strokes. He’d cried out her name, her real one, as he’d peaked, which had pleased her greatly. 

Now she reached down, gripping his shaft tightly through his jeans. His eyes fluttered as he woke. “Your Grace?” he asked, confused, even as his hips rocked his hard-on against her palm. 

“You should eat. Tonight will be busy.” She tilted her head, offering him the bare expanse of her throat. Spike cuddled in close to her, his face shifting as his lips found her pulse. She intertwined his fingers with hers and guided his hand between her legs while she worked her other hand into his pants to wrap her fingers around his cock. “Now bite,” she instructed him, crying out as his fingers and fangs invaded her body at the same time. He moved the two digits in her core in time with the pulls of blood he took, while the rough pad of his thumb rubbed over her clit. 

God, it felt good. It’d been far too long since she’d had a bed partner. She just couldn’t afford to show that kind of favoritism in her court. Invariably it led to bloodshed. And lately there’d also been a lack of anything human enough to attract her interest. She hadn’t gotten quite that lonely, yet. 

She had a stranglehold on his erection, not that he seemed to mind. Pumping him hard, she enjoyed the moans and muttered words of praise he uttered around the fangs planted in her neck. His hips started to jerk erratically and he increased the speed and pressure of his fingers on her sex. With a little cry she came. Spike rolled so he was on top of her, pulling her hand out of his pants and pinning both her wrists beside her head. 

There was a second of panic. The Empress submitted to no man! But he sucked harder at the wound in her neck and ground his rigid cock against her already sensitive core. Somehow he’d pushed his pants down and only the velvety fabric of her dress separated them. The worry at being pinned beneath him evaporated. The vampire was thrusting sharply against her and she peaked again, his name a prayer on her lips. He threw his head back and came with a strangled groan, shooting his load over her stomach before collapsing to lie on top of her. When he started to roll off her she held him in place. “Not yet,” she whispered into his ear. “Not yet.”

****

When they’d finally gotten up Buffy had put on one of the Watcher’s white t-shirts and handed her dress to Spike to clean, a task he’d seemed surprisingly cheerful about. 

They’d been alone in the apartment, a note on the counter explaining that Giles had gone out for groceries and other supplies. By the time he’d gotten back and the others had started to arrive her dress had been back on and her boots laced up. She’d reclaimed her chair and Spike was once more kneeling at her side. It was almost a pity that she’d find her mate soon, possibly even that night, and that she’d have to give up the vampire’s attentions. The Empress knew she’d be so in love with her destined partner that she wouldn’t miss Spike’s mouth and fingers on her, which seemed sad. Someone should be missing him. 

There was Chinese food in colorful cartons for dinner. Spike insisted, with growls and flashes of fang, that he make her a plate first. When she’d found the eggroll especially delicious the vampire had reached over and snagged the one off Giles’ plate for her. The Watcher had paled, but wisely not complained. 

The Empress had accepted Oz’s offer of transportation in his van, as one trip in Giles’ elderly car had been enough. Spike had offered to find–which she had taken to mean ‘steal’ from the looks of the others–a more fitting means of conveyance, but she had declined on the basis of time. 

However, Buffy did insist they stop at Willy’s bar before they started their mission on the University grounds. It was one of the places Spike had suggested they’d find a concentration of demons. Spike and Willow accompanied her inside, the others electing to remain in the van. 

The vampire had entered first and the bartender had started to protest until she’d swept in, her Slayer face to the fore. The human bartender had stammered and stared when his entire cliental had slipped from their chairs, booths, and stools to kneel on the filthy floor. She’d started with him, simply to shut him up, then worked systematically through every male in the room. Willow remained near the door, but Spike faithfully followed along beside her. 

The vampire was tense, a muscle in his jaw ticking under the strain. The Empress couldn’t figure out what was making him edgy. These were demons and therefore no danger to her, but every time she searched a male’s being to see if he was hers, Spike would clench his fists as if the creature might attack. The vampire didn’t relax until they’d left the bar.

“No luck with the honey hunt?” Xander asked as the three of them retook their places in the van. 

The Empress shook her head. “None was him,” she said sadly.

“Why does it have to be a him?” Willow lifted her eyebrows at Buffy, who furrowed her brow. 

“I just know it. Actually, it’s the only thing that I know about my mate.”

Oz let out a huff from the driver’s seat. “Did someone tell you that?”

“Maybe she just decided it because you usually like guys.” Anya said, her lips pursed. “Really, your Grace, you could be missing your mate because you are blinded by gender.”

Buffy let herself consider it. Soft lips to kiss, a mind that thought more like hers, a body she’d instinctively know how to pleasure. In her fantasy she gave the girl long dark hair and a heavy lidded gaze. She smiled, she wouldn’t necessarily have to give up her vampire so quickly either. Her silver eyes turned towards him. Spike was wearing his own speculative look. Surely he’d know how to please two women at the same time. In her mind her fantasy female mate wrapped herself around Spike. With a stifled gasp the Empress immediately halted that train of thought.

She didn’t like sharing, and a creature of her status should not be getting jealous over things that hadn’t happened yet. 

Buffy sighed. “No, every seer I questioned always firmly stated it’d be a him. The gender and location was the only thing they all agreed on. I just have to keep looking. He’s out there, somewhere.”

****

Once on the campus of Sunnydale University, Giles and Anya had been told by Buffy to stay with the van. The Empress, Spike, and the rest of the Scoobies had quickly found a group of soldiers to follow. Spike had been leery of the squad. Unlike the last time he’d been this close to the Initiative’s toadies, they were carrying actual firearms. It was clear which side of the ‘dead or alive’ equation the soldiers were on now.

The five had trailed behind the commandos until the men had disappeared inside a nearly empty frat house. 

After much muffled arguing The Empress had exerted her dominance. She’d ordered them to split up so they could cover as much ground as possible in the next twenty minutes. Then they were to all meet up again outside the front doors.  The vampire didn’t like being away from Buffy’s side, but he could not disobey her direct order. 

After ten minutes of fruitless searching Spike found himself pacing down a narrow corridor on the ground floor of the frat house. The damned hallway went on forever. Hell, the whole bloody night had been going on forever. He was attempting to do his best to find the entrance to the soldier’s hidden base, but his worry over the Empress and her search for her mate was proving distracting. 

Christ, that trip to Willy’s had been a joke. Not one of the blokes there had been worth a single hair on her head. There’d even been a sodding chaos demon. Wouldn’t that have been a hoot? He thought he’d rather meet the business end of a stake than have to watch his Empress cavort with the likes of that for centuries. 

He sighed. That was a bloody lie. He’d sworn himself to Buffy’s service, he’d never leave her, no matter who she was letting enjoy her goodies. 

Spike still thanked his lucky stars that the chaos demon had been as much a strikeout as the rest and all he’d been required to do was hand her Grace a napkin to wipe the slime off her fingers with. 

The hallway ended in a room with hideous wood paneling. He searched for any chinks in the wood, any irregularity that might conceal a hidden entry. He went through another doorway and a prickly sensation crawled over his skin. Wonderful, he was in a bloody chapel. It didn’t look well used as there was a layer of undisturbed dust over almost everything. At the far end, above the altar, was a large stained glass window. A light hanging outside shone through the window, casting muted colors over everything. The scene depicted was the ark with the animals marching in two by two, rain clouds hovering in the distance. A pair of doves hovered in midflight over a benevolent-looking Noah.

The thing was tacky. 

Spike shook his head and continued hunting for the secret dungeons. He had his back to the door when he heard rushed footsteps and the rattle of guns being unholstered.

“Freeze,” boomed a voice. Spike spun on his heel. There were only two soldiers, but one was holding a barely conscious and bleeding Xander upright, a gun pointing at his head. 

That’d piss Buffy off. She might not remember the sod, but he was one of hers.

“Looks like you’ve signed your death warrant there.” He jerked his chin at Harris.  

The larger soldier kept a gun trained on Spike as he ripped his ski-mask off. “Hostile 17,” the soldier snarled. 

Spike growled, leaping halfway to the soldier in one smooth motion. “Finn.” His voice was low and dangerous. 

Riley straightened up and holstered his guns. “Are you stupid, you fangless wonder? You can’t hurt us.” 

Spike’s face tightened, but he didn’t reply. The soldier would find out soon enough how dangerous he was. He circled towards the commando holding Xander. He rushed towards them, pretending he was making a run for it. The smaller soldier dropped Xander and grabbed at Spike. The vampire slammed the man’s head into the wall and the soldier went down like a ton of bricks; unconscious, but not dead. 

A bullet tore into the wood of the doorframe and Spike had to dodge to the other side of the room, sinking down behind a pew. 

“You shouldn’t be able to do that!” Riley’s voice was high pitched and Spike chuckled to himself. The wanker was scared. 

“Sorry, Spartacus. I seemed to have slipped my leash. I hope you’re not too disappointed.” 

Another bullet splintered the pew over his head. God, he could take a bullet, just not into his grey matter. 

“Come out, come out, wherever you are, or your little friend here is going to bite it!”

Spike sighed. He grabbed a hymnal and heaved it away from him, Riley spun to look at where the resulting thud of its landing came from.  The vampire slipped towards where Xander was slumped. The boy was awake, but shaky. He’d pulled both pistols from the unconscious commando’s belt and feebly tried to slide them towards Spike. They came to rest in the middle of the aisle. 

Riley had whipped back around and it was now or never. Spike hunched low, ran a few steps, and rolled across the aisle. Two bullets smacked into the tile floor right behind him, but he had the guns. Not his usual style, but Darla had made sure he’d a least known the basics. He flipped off the safeties and waited, hunched down behind another pew. 

Xander moaned in pain. 

Riley was scanning back and forth, hunting for the vampire. There was enough space beneath the hard wooden pew for Spike to shimmy under on his belly to the next row. He did so twice, until he was even with where Riley was standing. Thankfully the soldier did not have an angle for a shot on the kid. Spike sprang to his feet, both gun barrels pointed point blank at Riley’s face, but the soldier was fast for his bulky frame and both his guns were trained on Spike in an instant. 

The vampire was at a loss. He probably wouldn’t die from a gunshot wound or two to the head, but his brains would be right scrambled and he’d be no sodding use to anyone for quite a while. Might be worth it though, to take the prick down. 

Only he would leave his Empress alone that way and he’d sworn to remain with her always. Not that she wouldn’t be finding her mate soon enough, meaning he’d go back to being chopped liver. 

Both men were slowly circling each other.  Riley shifted his weight to his back foot, but Spike anticipated the move and spun with him, keeping his pistols aimed at the commando’s dark eyes. His duster swung out like the wings of a raven from the sudden move. 

“How’d you get the chip out?” Riley ground out.

Spike grinned. “Found me a friend. She’s not going to like you.”

“But how? It should have blown what grey matter you have to pulp if it was removed without the right access codes.”

“Well,” Spike arched an eyebrow. “I don’t know about that, mate. Bird that did it snapped her fingers and there it was, sitting pretty in her palm. I’m guessing you lot aren’t used to dealing with a centuries old Demon Empress?”

Riley narrowed his gaze. “Empress?”   

Spike nodded, one corner of his mouth lifting. 

“Well, I’m sure Kendra can take care of her same as any other demon. This Empress will look lovely sitting on the floor of a holding cell.”

Spike growled, low and menacing. He’d dust long before any of the Initiative’s people laid a single finger on Buffy.  

They’d worked themselves to right before the altar. Spike was trying to figure out a way to use it to his advantage. Riley was eyeing the cross on top. The soldier’s arm tensed and Spike ducked as Riley sent the cross spinning towards him with one hand. It passed harmlessly over his head and clattered loudly as it hit the floor. 

The vampire rolled and snapped to his feet in a defensive posture, but the soldier was already there. Their guns remained inches from the nose of the other.  They were right beside the horrible stained glass. Greens, blues, and browns passed over them as they shifted. Their gazes were locked, waiting for the other to make the first move. 

“Fuck!” Spike yelped, jumping back as the commando dissolved into tiny wet fragments and aerosolized blood that splattered across the window. The soldier hadn’t even had time to scream. The vampire gulped, fear and awe churning in his gut. 

The Empress was standing there, silver eyes blazing, one hand held up. 

Spike fell to his knees, awe winning out. 

She smiled at him. “Let’s go. I have the information.”

At the other end of the room Oz and Willow were helping Xander to stand. As the Empress passed him she briefly stopped and laid her hand on his head. The boy shook his shaggy hair and blinked, but then was able to walk on his own.

Spike hopped to his feet. He dropped the pistols into his pockets and swept out of the chapel behind the others. Not one of them spared so much as a backwards glance at the bloodstain that’d once been commando Riley Finn. 

**** 

The Empress was unimpressed with the Initiative. She stormed through the moonlit trees, a frown on her human face. “These soldiers,” she addressed no one in particular. “Are fools. They hide behind their toys and expect to be safe from me.” Unable to find either the hidden entrance or a computer, Buffy had settled for yanking the data she needed out of the brain of the unconscious soldier in the chapel. 

Spike laughed. “I don’t think they’re expecting you at all.”

“Yeah, Buffy.” Xander wiped at the blood that still trickled from his nose. “You’re going to kick their butts.” 

She smiled. She really would ‘kick their butts’. When she was done nothing would remain of the soldiers’ underground lair but smoke and ashes.  That only left the other part of her mission. “I think my mate is there as well, held within their walls. They will pay tenfold for any harm that they have visited upon his head.” 

Ahead of her the vampire’s back stiffened. The Empress pouted. Spike would have his revenge as well; he did not need to worry. 

The witch and werewolf were walking hand in hand.

“How will you find him in the chaos?” Oz asked. “It might be hard to do the flaming eye thing with everything going hectic when we storm the Initiative.”

The Empress bit her lip. He had a point. “I will simply have to trust in fate. I am meant to find him, so I will.”

“That fire eye thing is way scary.”  Xander hugged himself. “I was worried you’d know more about me than I do.”

Buffy shrugged one shoulder. “I see many things when I am testing someone, but I forget it all almost immediately after. It would be a lot to clutter up my brain.”

“And no one likes a cluttered brain,” Willow said. “What did it feel like to you, Spike? Was it the same, all scary insight stuff?”

“I wouldn’t know,” he muttered, his hands tightening into fists. 

The Empress frowned. That couldn’t be right. She’d checked every male she’d come across. Only…she’d been upset about Spike being chained and they’d been busy since. She hadn’t. How could she have not done her due diligence?

“Spike,” she called. “I would fulfill my duty.”

“Your duty?” he spat, not stopping and not so much as turning to look at her. “Let’s not waste time, your Grace. We both know how it’d turn out.” 

She blinked. He didn’t speak to her like that. Was he upset she had not yet checked him? And wait, he did not speak to her like that! Her Slayer face slipped to the fore. 

“Vampire,” she commanded. “On. Your. Knees.”

Spike dropped to both knees instantly. His head was bowed, hands spread wide on his thighs. The Empress strode until she was standing in front of him. She grabbed Spike’s chin in her claws, yanking his face up so his blue eyes met her silver ones. Her red lips drew back in a silent snarl as fire replaced the silver.

Everything that he had been, was, and could be opened up before her. 

She’d expected the emptiness she had found again and again, the aching hollow of nothingness. 

Only not this time. He had his own fire, and it came roaring to meet hers. A rushing torrent of sound, light, and life filled every vacant place inside her to bursting. 

She was complete. 


	4. Open

Ready for those flashing lights

            -Lady Gaga, “Paparazzi”

****

The van started with a roar as three figures rushed out of the trees. 

“I see Xander!” Anya excitedly bounced up and down in the passenger seat, pointing out the window.

“Excellent, but where’s Spike and Buffy?” Leaving the van idling Giles swung the door open and met the panting Willow, Xander and Oz as they stumbled to a halt beside the vehicle. He looked expectantly towards the woods, but there was no movement. “Where’s the Empress? And Spike?” he asked the others, worry making his face tight. 

A sound like thunder rent the night. A column of roiling golden light erupted from the forest, shining like a spotlight into the sky. Silver flames danced around it. Birds rose from the trees, squawking in protest. 

“What’s…” Giles trailed off, slack-jawed. 

Xander pointed a shaking finger at the light display. “That’s them.”

Giles couldn’t look away from it. “I…what?” 

“Um,” Willow bit her lip. “Buffy did the flamey, mind searching thing with Spike. And then he went all vampire face and sort of growled and kind of purred and then they started making-out.” 

“Ah.” Giles couldn’t think of anything more to say. 

“When the flashing disco lights started and they were smooching while floating several feet off the ground, we decided that making like a tree and leaving was probably for the best.” Xander was leaning against the passenger door. The window was rolled down and Anya was resting her hands on his arm. 

Oz shrugged. “It was kind of intense.” 

The column of light continued to rage. They all stared at it. 

“Well,” Anya finally spoke up. “We might as well go home.”

“We can’t just leave them!” Willow said, frowning at Anya.

The ex-demon sighed. “They’re a vampire and an Empress, they’ll probably be at it for hours.”

“It?” Xander asked, furrowing his brow. 

Anya patted him absently. “It’s a mating ritual.” She eyed the shimmering light while Xander gulped and shuffled his feet.  

“Oh, oh!” Willow blushed. “Erm, yeah, I guess we should go ahead and go.”

Giles briefly closed his eyes. What had happened to his life? His Slayer was the Empress of a hell dimension, and now mated to William the Bloody. Did the Watcher’s Council hand out booby prizes? 

“I’m thinking they’ll get home okay.” Xander was pointedly looking away from the woods. “Can we stop at McDonald’s? I’m starving.” 

****

Everything but the moment had ceased to matter. There was no past or future, only the present. Only him. Her mate. Her completion. 

Light was exploding about them, gold and silver chasing each other.  She was clinging to him, her arms around his leather clad shoulders and her legs tightly gripping his narrow waist.  Her mouth was plastered against his, unable to get enough of his taste. She was ablaze with lust, her body burning for him. 

She could remember her single night with Angel in excruciating detail: her fumbling caresses and how gentle he’d been with her. For a very long time it’d been all she’d had to think about when her body’s demand for sexual release had become too great. She’d end up getting herself off as quickly as possible while hidden under some rock or curled up in the crook of some tree, the lack of focus on her surroundings making her vulnerable. 

Once she’d assumed the mantle of Empress there’d been no lack of suitors. She’d even taken a few of them to her bed, the ones that’d been human-like and handsome, but she’d still been trying to recreate that first night. They’d all been tall and dark haired, and it made her want to either laugh or sob now. Because the man in her arms was as different from Angel as night was from day, and she wanted Spike more than she’d ever wanted anything before in her existence.  

At some point Buffy had realized they were floating, able to tumble freely around each other, as if even gravity couldn’t force them to obey its rules. A little experimentation showed her that if she wanted to she could push against the air like it was a hard surface. The very substance of matter was obeying her commands. Her Empress heart hummed with satisfaction. 

Their clothing started getting in the way, and just like that the annoying things disappeared. Buffy sat back and ran her fingertips over his face, shoulders, back, chest, and stomach, memorizing every inch of him. His eyes were open and watching her, his hands loosely holding her hips as she straddled him. Under her touch his skin twitched as she explored. They were rotating slowly, the long strands of her hair waving around them. 

“You’re an amazing creature,” his deep voice rumbled. Spike’s hand skimmed up her stomach, stopping just under the swell of her breast. He turned palm side up and cupped her breast, his thumb grazing the hard peak. “I haven’t been able to think of much else besides you since the first time I saw you. You probably don’t even remember now, but you were dancing at the Bronze. All fire and passion. I knew at that instant you’d be a part of me forever.”

Buffy furrowed her brow, though it was hard to think as he continued to fondle her breast. Something tickled at the very back of her mind, memories six-hundred years old demanding to be acknowledged. One stood out clear in her mind. “You threatened to kill me!” she accused with a pout. 

“That I did, luv. I was never very good at it.” His hips lifted as he ground his erection against her. Whatever magic was at work was obeying him as well, giving him a way to brace himself.  Not that she was complaining. “Got something else I want to do to you.” Soft lips lifted in a smirk and he curled his tongue behind his teeth. Buffy’s eyes widened. She was sure she’d never had that look directed at her before. She felt like she was melting and her pussy clenched with desire. With a chuckle he pushed the hardness of his cock against her slick folds again. “Got what you need right here, your Grace.”

She leaned forward, putting her arms around his neck. His hand left her breast and wandered down so he could rub the rough pad of a finger over her aching clit. “I’m glad it was you,” she said breathlessly. 

The knowing look on his face melted into one of shock. “Yeah?”

“I was so relieved every time I looked into someone else’s eyes and they weren’t my mate. I wanted another night with you. Just one more.”

Spike smiled softly at her. “You’re stuck with me for a bit longer than that now.”

His finger was continuing to make circles on her nub, but his other hand was between their bodies as well, positioning the head of his erection right at her entrance. “I want you.” She pushed her hips down, impaling herself on his cock. “Forever.”

Her eyes turned silver as her face shifted to that of the Slayer. With a feral growl Spike let his demon loose. He grabbed both her wrists, holding them over her head. He braced his knees and slammed himself into her, taking control. The force of his thrusts caused them to tumble as well as spin, but she hardly registered the change. She snapped her tiny fangs at him and wrenched one hand free to rake red lines with her fingernails down his back. 

The pressure of an impending orgasm was building low in her belly. Spike was twisting slightly with each plunge now, hitting both the sensitive bundle of nerves deep inside her and making his pelvis grind against her clit. He tangled a hand in her hair, twisting her head to the side. His tongue was cool against her feverish skin. His other hand caught one of her breasts, tweaking the nipple hard and making her cry out. With a groan he sank the sharp points of his teeth into her throat. The sharp pain only lasted an instant, and then she was coming around his cock, the pleasure echoing back from where his fangs were buried in her neck. His name tumbled from her lips over and over again. 

Buffy yanked herself away from the bite, pushed against his chest so she was upright and once again in control. She rode him hard, both his hands now on her breasts. He clamped his fingers down hard on the peaks while she undulated urgently on his hard shaft. When a second release washed over her he let her nipples go and the pleasure was almost more than she could bear. With a guttural groan his back arced and he slammed up inside her one last time. Spike’s seed flooded her and with a surprised hiss she came again, the pleasure almost painful as the walls of her pussy pulsed against him. 

She collapsed onto his chest, her arms wrapping around him. “Forever,” his voice purred, a soft tickle against her ear. “Forever.”

****

The front door of the apartment banged open as Willow was towel drying her hair. Spike and Buffy spilled in, arms around each other and goofy smiles plastered on their faces. Buffy steered the vampire to the couch and sort of dropped him there. He immediately lay down on his stomach and appeared to go to sleep, big grin still in place. Giles was making a face at the grimy boots on his furniture.

Buffy headed down the hall towards the bathroom. “I’m going to shower,” she called over her shoulder. As she walked by Willow, the redhead put her hand out to catch her.

“Hey, after you get clean can we talk?” Willow asked timidly. She’d dreamed a million times of seeing her friend again, but not once had it ever gone like this in her imagination. 

“Sure!” Buffy looked happier than Willow could ever remember seeing her. “Meet me upstairs in a few, I totally feel more like myself than I have in centuries!”

The Empress continued down the hall, humming something to herself completely off-key. Willow gave her back a puzzled smile and went to find Xander. He was in the kitchen staring into the open fridge as if something worth eating would magically appear. “I see Lucy and Ricky made it back okay.”

“Xander, quit it.”

He shut the fridge door hard enough to make the bottles of condiments rattle together, then leaned against the appliance, arms crossed. “Sorry, I’m just weirded out by…everything.”

“Yeah, me too. Only I don’t think we should be mean about it because we don’t get it.”

Xander sighed, his eyes downcast. “I don’t think I should be mean either. I’m not trying to be a jerk, but I can’t help but want my friend back, the way I remember her.”

“She’s still Buffy, and she needs us to be her friends. I’m about to go and talk with her, do you want to come?”

“Um, what about Oz and Anya?” He glanced towards the living room. Oz was curled up in a chair asleep and Anya was reading a Cosmo with a notepad and pen at her side. 

“Buffy doesn’t know them as well. Just us is probably best.”

Willow walked up the stairs to the small loft, Xander trailing behind. There wasn’t anywhere else so they both made places on the bed, sitting cross-legged. They only had to wait a few minutes before Buffy strode into the room, her long hair damp and tangled. She had a comb in her hand and an apologetic look on her face. 

“Can one of you help me?” She held out the comb. “I don’t usually do this myself and I think I’m making it worse.”

“I’d love to!” Willow beamed. The Empress handed her the comb and sat down, scooting until she had her back towards Willow.

There were a few moments of silence while Willow started to work out the snarls at the ends of Buffy’s hair.

“Um,” Buffy sounded unsure. She took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. “While we were walking back here I realized I could remember a lot more stuff than before. I guess it got knocked loose.” She giggled quietly, eyes unfocused for a second. With a little shake of her head Buffy turned her gaze back on Willow. “So how come Spike’s back in town? The deal was we’d help each other and then he’d take his stupid ho girlfriend and leave.” Buffy’s hands tightened on the bedspread, nearly tearing holes. “He wasn’t supposed to come back.” 

Xander groaned. “He showed back up the next fall. Drusilla had dumped him.” Buffy’s fingers relaxed and she used them to smooth the fabric of her dress down. Xander scratched his head. “He kidnapped me and Willow and wanted either a love spell to make Drusilla want him again, or possibly your head to take to her. But when we told him you were gone, he got all weird.”

“Yeah, pacing around, cursing, throwing stuff,” Willow added. “Eventually he just let us go and took off. Y’know, that whole episode seems a lot less strange now.” She’d never been able to understand why the vampire had completely wigged out over Buffy possibly being dead. It made much more sense now, what with the whole cosmic destiny, belonging together thing. Which actually still made her feel kind of odd. Did she actually have to be nice to Spike now?  

“Kendra saw him a month or so ago.” Xander picked at nonexistent lint on his shirt. “Her Watcher called Giles looking for information on some ring that’s supposed to make vampires safe from the sun, but I guess he didn’t find it before the Initiative got a hold of him.”

“So why you?” Buffy asked, tilting her head as Willow continued to comb out her hair. “Why’d he come to you for help?”

Willow quirked her lips. “Well, I don’t think he had a lot of choice. He was starving. The Initiative and Kendra were hot on his heels and he figured as ‘white hats’ we’d at least listen to him. Giles decided the information Spike had on the soldiers was worth the risk. Not that we trusted him, which is why he was chained up.” 

“Oh.” Buffy was sitting with her knees bent, arms and chin resting on them. 

“What’s it like where you’ve been? Is it all fire and brimstone?” Xander looked like he was desperate to talk about anything besides the vampire.

Buffy rolled her eyes. “Hell dimensions are very rarely like that. Personally I know twenty that are variations on middle class suburbia. Mine, of course, is special.” She smiled dreamily. “It’s not like you’d want to mix it with this place. The native demons tend to think of human as a delicacy, but for the most part they just want to get on with their lives. They have three arms, three eyes, six horns. It’s actually kind of nice to be looking at people that have only a single nose and two eyes.” She seemed to drift off into her head. 

“Earth to Buffy.” Xander waved his hand in front of her face. 

The Empress giggled and her bare toes curled. “Spike’s eyes are blue.”

Xander groaned. 

“Hey!” Willow wanted to drag Buffy back to this reality. “Do you remember Principal Snyder?” The look of disgust on her friend’s face was all the answer Willow needed. “Wait until you hear what happened to him!”

The three friends talked for hours, mostly about stuff that happened in Sunnydale. Buffy found the Mayor’s ascension a hoot. She insisted that if she’d been here for that as Empress, that she would have made a pet out of him. Her certainty made Willow a little uneasy. It was easy to forget that Buffy wielded so much power. 

Eventually they all fell asleep, Buffy ensconced between Willow and Xander. It was like old times. Willow had found herself wishing for ice cream more than once. 

At some point Willow woke up as the bed dipped. There was a thump and a startled yelp from Xander.  “Hey!” he grumbled from his new position on the floor. Opening one eye she watched Spike draw a sleepy Buffy against him. Willow closed her eye again and pulled the quilt tighter around her.

“Can I at least get a pillow?” Xander groused. There were several rustling sounds and the muffled whack of what Willow assumed was a pillow hitting Xander in the head. “Thanks,” he said, actually sounding sincere. Willow wondered if she was dreaming.

****

Giles came to slumped over his desk. He had a horrible crick in his neck. The sliver of light making it through the curtains was pale, so it must barely be morning. He stretched and looked around. Oz was still fast asleep in a chair, a blanket now covering him, and Anya was stretched out on the couch with her arm thrown over her face. Giles narrowed his eyes, hadn’t Spike been there earlier? Where had everyone else ended up?

Treading quietly the Watcher went upstairs to grab a change of clothes before taking a shower. He shook his head ruefully when he got to the top of the steps. Willow was asleep on the bed, hugging a pillow. Spike was on his side, Buffy facing him and tucked up under his chin. Xander was snoring lightly on the floor with Spike’s duster, of all unlikely things, draped over him as a blanket. 

He wished he could take a picture to paste in his Watcher Diary, nobody was ever going to believe him otherwise. 

Retrieving his clean clothes Giles was careful not to wake them. It’d be their last chance to rest before planning and executing of an assault on the heart of the Initiative. 

****

The Empress was seated in what Xander had come to think of as her throne. Spike was standing slightly behind her now, no longer simply a servant required to kneel at her feet. His eyes remained as focused on her as ever, though. Anya had less than helpfully mentioned to Xander, when he’d been grumbling about the couple, that the vampire had been servicing Buffy as well as serving her even prior to the whole mating debacle. 

Xander had asked her how’d she known that. Anya had looked at him like he was a moron and told him that it had been painfully obvious. 

Buffy was in full Slayer mode, her face frightening in its stark beauty. She’d started out the meeting by insisting she would go alone, her power more than enough to end the ‘heinous acts’ of the soldiers. Spike had basically spit fire at that idea and she’d quickly amended her plan to her and him going, to which Giles had pointed out that there’d be computer systems that she was not familiar with and that having extra hands would be beneficial. 

Now they were all going, including him. Xander had very little idea what good he’d be, except as a pack mule for high explosives. Well that, and he’d be there to protect Anya. The idea of the commandos getting their grubby paws on her made him feel sick.

The procurement of said high explosives and a plan to create a diversion were going through several groups of telepathic demons that the Empress was in contact with. 

With little else to do until sunset, Xander formed his own plan of attack. It started out with him filching Giles’s credit card and finished with the delivery of several large pizza boxes. 

The Watcher’s grumbling had been well worth enduring as Buffy had excitedly torn into the cheesy goodness of a slice of Chicago style supreme. As she nosily chewed she’d given him a grateful look and Xander had finally understood what the appeal was in serving her. He couldn’t be her knight, but he could be a pretty darn good pizza boy. 

****

A breeze rustled the branches of the trees that were screening everyone from view as they made last minute preparations. Thankfully it carried no scent of soldier, despite their proximity to an entrance for the underground base. 

Spike was ready. The demons had met them with the explosives and guns right where the Empress had said they would, and now everyone was armed to the teeth. He ran his tongue over his fangs, unable to keep the demon at bay with the prospect of so much fun about to be had. His mate, dressed now in form fitting leather pants and a tight red velvet halter top, strolled over to him. 

“Hungry?” she purred. 

“Always,” he answered, catching a strand of her long hair between his fingers. He used it to tug her closer for a kiss. She tasted of honey and he couldn’t help that his hand ran down her back to cup her ass, pulling her tighter against him. Her tongue tangled with his for a long minute, but then she was pulling her lips away from his. A sound somewhere between a whimper and a growl emanated from the back of his throat as he attempted to capture her mouth again.

“I wasn’t kidding.” She stopped him with a gentle hand on his chest. “I think you should eat before we engage the enemy.”

“Right.” He looked around surreptitiously at the others, who were themselves scarfing down power bars or draining bottles of water. What should it matter to them if he had a meal as well?  Spike cradled the back of her head as she swung her heavy hair away from the pale column of her throat. Ever so carefully he slid his fangs into her offered flesh, the heady rush of her blood making him moan. Her hands gripped the lapels of his coat and he had to tighten his arms about her as she nearly swooned in his embrace. It made him want to climb the nearest tree and shout to the world that the girl was his, that the Empress had chosen him, William the Bloody, as her mate.  

He wished he could rub it in the face of every tosser that’d ever doubted him. Take that, Cecily Underwood. It was really too bad Angelus wasn’t around to see Buffy like this, with her hot blood running down his throat while she panted and wiggled against him. God, he loved her, and every luscious sound she was making.

Someone cleared their throat loudly and close by. He didn’t stop, just made a rude gesture in the general direction the noise had come from before settling his palm back on his mate’s delectable ass. The throat clearing came again and Spike sighed, breaking the seal of his lips around the wound on Buffy’s neck and allowing blood to leak out and drip down the perfect curve of her throat. He found himself entranced by the way the red drops pooled just over her clavicle. He swept them up with his tongue, not wanting any of her essence to escape him. 

“Spike,” the Watcher’s exasperated voice broke into his reverie. 

With a growl he spun to face the man, Buffy’s blood smeared across his lips and staining his fangs. Giles’ face paled and he took a step back, much to Spike’s satisfaction. There was a gentle touch on his shoulder from his mate. He glanced at her. She was now wearing the silver eyes and hard planes of the Slayer. 

“It’s time,” she whispered. The Empress didn’t look at Giles as she passed him, her gaze locked on the hidden entrance to the base, the location of which she’d gleaned from the unconscious soldier’s mind. Spike wasn’t so benevolent. As he strode by the Watcher he snarled and half lunged towards the man, who nearly fell over his own feet in trying to get away from the vampire. “Stop scaring my friends,” Buffy called without turning around. 

Spike grinned, swiping some of the blood from his lips with the back of his hand, and continued to trail after Buffy. 

Willow had some kind of contraption to override the security to the nearly invisible bunker door. It slid open, revealing a harsh white interior. The smell brought back vivid memories of what had happened to him down in the cells. The horror almost made Spike balk in the doorway, but his mate was already inside, pushing the button for the lift, and he couldn’t very well let her go down there without him. He wasn’t the same vampire that’d escaped, anyway. He had no chip and was hopped up on Empress blood. The wankers weren’t going to know what hit them. 

They all crowded into a single lift car. There was sodding music as they descended, something listless and probably government mandated. He pushed his way to stand right in front of the doors. He grabbed his mate and kissed her one more time for luck, eliciting a token protest from Xander. He let a breathless Buffy go, winked at the kid, and yanked a pair of Uzis from where they’d been clipped on his belt. This was going to be neat.

There was a ding and the doors slid open. 


	5. What Doesn't Kill Me

Eyeliner and cigarettes

                -Lady Gaga, “Paparazzi”

****

The elevator door opened onto a disappointingly empty hallway.  Spike strode out and the Empress followed in his wake, the others more slowly behind them.

“Let’s see if we can get someone’s attention,” she suggested.

He squeezed off a short volley, the bullets harmlessly making holes in the ceiling.

A squad of soldiers emptied out of a newly opened doorway, surprise on their faces and guns pointed at the intruders. A few more men jogged up from further down the corridor.

“Drop your weapons and no one gets hurt!” Buffy yelled.

A bullet smacked into the floor at Xander’s feet, making him jump backwards with a frightened cry. The report echoed sharply in the enclosed space.

Emboldened, the soldiers started firing.

The Empress threw up her hands and the air between her mate and the incoming projectiles thickened. The bullets slowed, then stopped, plinking as they dropped to the floor. Only one made it through, catching her Watcher’s ear and leaving a bloody track.

White hot anger pumped through her veins. “Now, Spike.”

The vampire raised the barrels of the Uzis and Buffy dissipated the barrier. His vamped out as he sprayed the trapped soldiers with bullets, the casings raining down on the hard cement. Spike emptied both guns in seconds. Striding forward he threw away the spent firearms and drew his pistols, but there was no one left for him to shoot.

“She bloody well told you not to fire,” he sniffed, kicking the limp arm of a dead commando.

Inside the room the first squad of soldiers had exited were multiple banks of monitors and what was clearly an intercom.

The Empress quickly gave her friends and her mate instructions that had them poised to move as soon as she gave the word. Luck seemed to be with them as the monitors showed mostly empty spaces inside the Initiative. The planned diversion had worked far better than she had hoped.  

She picked up the microphone for the intercom. “This is her Imperial Majesty Buffy Anne Summers. Slayer of Sunnydale. Queen of Itharca. Defender of Sa’sermin. Dutchess of Nihelm and Abrasax.” She glanced up at her mate, who was making a ‘get on with it’ gesture. “Empress of all Hileem. If you are a soldier of the Initiative, put down your weapons and leave. If you remain, you will die. If you are a demon enslaved within this facility you will be set free. Leave this place and the hellmouth immediately, harming none within my territory.”

She straightened and nodded at Spike. He took off down a corridor to monitor that her instructions were being followed. Willow settled at a computer monitor and began to work on opening cages. Oz stood behind his girlfriend, nervously clutching a gun taken off one of the dead commandos.

Buffy returned to the corridor with Giles, Xander, and Anya. Both men carried bags packed with explosives. A third bag remained with Willow. The Empress retrieved a pistol from a soldier’s belt and handed it to Anya. “Watch Xander’s back.”

“Um, sweetie,” Xander squeaked, eying his girlfriend as she clutched the weapon. “You do know which way to point that thing so nothing bad happens if it accidently goes boom, right?”

“Hey!” Fire snapped in Anya’s eyes. “I’ll have you know that I am quite a good marksman.” She raised the pistol, sighted, and fired. Several yards down the corridor the door to a maintenance shaft swung open, the lock destroyed. Anya lowered the pistol and clicked on the safety. She admired the gun in her hands. “It is nice that I don’t need to ram a new ball and powder down the barrel for it to work again. Do you think I could get one in pink?”

Buffy rolled her eyes. “You two head into those maintenance tunnels and start doling out the explosives.”

“Come on honey!”  Anya trotted towards the door she’d shot open, Xander trudging less enthusiastically after her.

“I suppose it’s our turn now.” Giles was looking at Buffy expectantly over the top of his glasses.

The Empress glanced briefly in the direction her mate had gone, wanting to catch up with him, but he could take care of himself and her Watcher would need help.

“Yes,” she intoned. “I do hope not all the humans decided to run away. I could do with some amusement.”

****

The red emergency lights that’d blinked on when Willow cut the main power cast everything in hellish shadows. Spike prowled down the corridor. The glass fronted cells on either side were already open and empty.

His nose twitched.

It seemed there was still at least one occupant. He inhaled again. It smelled human, female, and very frightened. What the hell had the soldier boys been up to? He followed the scent, finding a young woman with dishwater-blonde hair cowering in a corner.

“Don’t hurt me,” she whispered through dry lips. She was thin, wrapped in nothing but a filthy hospital gown.

Spike slipped his guns back in his pockets and held his hands up. “No worries. Just want to get you out of here.”

She tried to press herself further into the corner. “I’m not stupid.” She looked up, eyes defiant. “You’re a vampire.”

“You got me there.” He leaned against the wall and pulled out a pack of smokes. He kept his eyes on the girl as he lit one. “What about you?” He blew a stream of smoke in her direction.

“I’m a witch.”

A smirk stole over his face. “Are you a good witch or a bad witch?”  The girl just glared at him. “Well, Samantha, I’m part of the rescue party. Not planning on draining you. You seem a bit on the anemic side anyway, yeah?” He waved the hand with the cigarette in her general direction. “Not to mention my lady would get right annoyed with me if I started biting every blubbering tart I came across. Up to you, if you don’t want to be here when this place blows sky high I suggest you follow me.” Spike took a last drag on the fag and dropped the butt, grinding it out under the heel of his boot.

The girl braced her dirty bare feet under her and stood. “My name’s Tara.”

“Sure.”

“And I’m not blubbering and I am certainly not a tart!”

“Whatever you say, Samantha. Let’s get out of this Roach Motel.” He sauntered out of the cell, after a moment the sound of her bare feet slapping on the tile as she followed him could be heard. He grinned. Smart girl.

There were no other stragglers. He burst through one set of double doors, then another, the witch scurrying along behind him.  Finding himself in a small lab, with multiple sets of doors leading who knew where and a second story that had a metal balcony running its length, he paused. He needed to get Samantha back to the others. Because they’d care about what happened to her, not him. He was a vampire. He’d much rather rip her limb from… oh, who the bloody hell was he kidding? Spike glanced at the girl, who had her arms wrapped tightly across her middle and was refusing to look at anything besides the patch of floor she was standing on. His chest heaved with a loud sigh. Obviously this whole ‘being mated to an Empress that was also a Slayer’ thing was going to have some side effects.

Now, where was Buffy? The question had barely formed before he just knew. Well, that was handy. “This way, Samantha. Not much further.” He held a hand out to usher her along. The girl had barely taken a step when a bullet ripped into the lab bench next to her. Her feet faltered as her head turned to look at the hole. Spike grabbed her gown and pulled her to the floor. “Keep your head down.” The pistols were already back in his hands and pointing in the direction the shot had come from.

Tara was lying curled up the floor. The unseen soldier fired twice more. Both bullets went wide, but the girl gave a muffled shriek and crawled quickly to the vampire. She pushed herself against his leg and wound her arms tightly about his knee. It’d take more time to shake her off than it was worth. He did smile a little ruefully that he’d gone from potential murderer to security blanket in her mind.

There was another shot, and this time he pinpointed the shooter’s location. As Spike aimed his own pistol he became aware that he was about to have a lot more company. “It’s about to be a party in here, Samantha, you just stay right where you are. I’ve got eighteen bullets, should be enough to take care of these tossers.” He spared a glance at the terrified witch. “Count with me.”

Resettling his aim, he fired. “One.”

Tara’s soft voice echoed his a second later. “One.” He could hear the thud of a body hitting the floor and smelt the coppery tang of blood.  The scent was all wrong, like cheese in a can, after the rich elixir of what flowed through his mate’s veins.

The thumping sound of rushing boots and the click of safeties’ being released filled the small space. To Spike’s delight he found he knew where each of the soldiers were, their heartbeats like homing devices. Another side effect? A feral grin split his face. The pistols in his hands started barking as he aimed with barely a conscious thought. “Two. Three. Four. Five.”

The ski-masked commandos barely had a chance to return fire.  There were a few poorly aimed shots before a bullet from Spike’s guns found each of the soldiers’ heart or brain. 

They’d all been on the second level so far, easy prey. “Six. Seven. Eight. Nine.” Spike could hear Tara repeating each number as she clung to him like a vine. The spent casings clinked as they hit the concrete.

The swinging doors behind them burst open and Spike was barely able to wrench the witch out of the way as machine gun fire tore up the floor where they’d been standing a second ago. “Ten.” The commando went down. Spike debated making a grab for the MP5, but there couldn’t be much ammo left after the track the idiot wielding it had laid down. Absently, he raised one pistol and fired behind him. “Eleven. Twelve.” Tara’s voice shook, but was clear.

Two squads of five soldiers each piled in from opposite directions. The vampire was squeezing off rounds before the doors had even had time to shut. The pistols were hot in his grip. “Thirteen. Fourteen. Fifteen. Sixteen. Seventeen.” Spike ducked down next to Tara, their backs against the solid side of the lab bench. He’d taken out two commandos from one squad and three from the other.

“One left,” he told Tara, holding up the gun with the bullet in it and tossing away the spent pistol.

Her eyes were steady as she rested a hand on his wrist. “When I say to, stand up and fire it towards the side with the three guys, okay?”

The vampire nodded, his head cocked as he listened to the commandos advancing on their position.

The witch let go of his leg and took several deep breaths. “Now,” she commanded. He stood, the witch at his side chanting under her breath. He aimed at the nearest soldier and fired. Instead of entering the man’s head at the angle Spike had been expecting the bullet tore through the side and kept going, into and out of the eye socket of a second soldier and thwacking into the chest of a third. The three men went down nearly simultaneously.

Spike and the witch ducked back down as shots from the two remaining commandos hit the lab bench over their heads.

“That was bloody amazing, Samantha. You’re a hell of a witch to curve a bullet like that.” Spike shook his head in amazement. Tara tried to smile, but it was strained. The vampire briefly touched her wrist. “It was you or them. Don’t feel bad for trying to stay alive.”

She nodded, looking down so her tangled hair covered her face.  “Now what do we do? Without a weapon?”

Spike laughed. He put a finger under her chin and tilted her head back up until she was looking at him. “Did you forget the vampire part?” He brought the demon forward and Tara gasped, leaning away from him. He smirked at her. “I always have a weapon.”

The two remaining soldiers were nearly on top of them, just on the other side of the lab bench. With a growl, Spike rose and vaulted the table, the spent pistol spinning in his hand so he could smash the butt of the gun into the commando’s temple. The guy collapsed forward and Spike caught him, using him as a shield as the last soldier emptied an entire magazine in the vampire’s direction. The soldier’s eyes were wide with fright as his finger continued to click the now useless trigger.

Spike dropped the dead body he was holding and sprang at the soldier, grabbing the fool’s head and twisting until the man’s neck snapped with a satisfying crunch. The vampire waited a few moments, but the only human he could sense now was the witch. Human mask back in place he returned to Tara and helped her up. She was shaking but she let him lead her out of the room without a complaint.

A few more twists and turns through thankfully empty corridors and labs and Spike found his Empress and her friends.

“Tara?” Willow asked, running to hug the blonde witch.

“You know her, Red?”

Willow nodded. “She was in my Wicca group.” Tara was leaning against the redhead, sobbing quietly in relief.

“Samantha here’s the real deal. You two birds should have a lot to talk about.” With that he dismissed them both from his mind as he sought out Buffy. She was standing across the room, hand on her hip, discussing something with her Watcher. Spike went to stand at her shoulder. The Empress didn’t turn to look at him or stop her tirade as she explained to Giles that all the demons that had been freed were to be offered 24 hours’ safe passage from Sunnydale. However, as he settled in at her side, her hand left her hip and sought his. Their fingers interlaced and Spike relaxed, happy to be where he belonged.

****

The Empress was contented with the fact that all the members of her admittedly very small army had left for safety, along with the girl Spike had rescued. She no longer had to worry for them. Her mate waited patiently while she tracked the progress of her friends on the security cameras until they had left the compound. With a sigh of relief, she turned to her mate. With the humans gone he’d let his demon out, and was tonguing one fang while he watched her with naked hunger in his eyes. Her pulse quickened. All that strength and intensity were hers.

Sooner or later he was going to figure out that he had a great deal more power over her than he would ever expect. The duffel with the remaining explosives was at his feet, but she casually toed it out of the way so she could run her hands over his chest. His mouth slanted over hers and he tenderly cupped her head in his palms. His tongue invaded her mouth, rolling around hers and brushing over her blunt teeth. Buffy started to lose herself in the sensation.

“Well, well, isn’t this cute.” A cold, heavily accented voice bit out from the door to the control room.

Buffy spun to face the intruder and Spike snaked an arm around her stomach, pulling her against him. “Kendra,” he whispered.

A tall, dark skinned girl was standing in the doorway, stake in hand, her feet apart in a fighting stance. The other Slayer. Buffy couldn’t remember anything about her except that the authorities had thought she’d been the one to hurt Kendra and somehow that’d led to the truce with Spike.

The Empress fixed the girl with a hard stare. “My sister Slayer, this place is at an end. Leave now before it is too late.”

Kendra tightened her grip around the stake. “It is you that will find it is too late!”

Buffy glanced up at her mate, eyebrow raised. He chuckled. “It turns out pithy quips are not Slayer standard issue.”

Kendra took a step towards them and Buffy started to raise her hand, intending to swat the girl like a fly, but her arm trembled and she paused.

Spike caught her about the wrist. “Don’t, luv. There’s no need. Keep her busy and I’ll set the last charges.” He frowned. “Is there a detonator?”

“I’m the detonator,” Buffy said flatly, eyes on the other Slayer.

“Ah, right.” One arm still around Buffy he leaned over and snagged the handles of the duffle, swinging it up onto his shoulder. “Kendra,” he sounded like he was about to sit down for tea with the girl. “What are you planning to do with that toothpick?”

“I will plant it into your unbeating heart.”

Fear for her mate choked the Empress. Behind her Spike muttered: “That’s what I thought you’d say.” His arm disappeared from around her. Buffy flew at Kendra, knocking the girl out into the hallway. She landed heavily and the stake went skidding across the floor. Buffy used her power to levitate it and hurl it against the wall of the corridor, where it disintegrated to nothing but splinters.

There was fear on Kendra’s face for a second, but then her features hardened again as she prepared to attack. “Traitor,” she hissed.

“What? Because I broke your toy?” Buffy braced herself.

“Because you fornicate with the dead!”

“Undead!” Spike’s voice echoed down the hallway from where he was setting up one of the explosive devices.

Buffy pursed her lips. “That is kind of an important distinction.”

“I see no difference!” Kendra yelled and came at Buffy with a vicious series of kicks and punches. The Empress easily dodged and countered, giving ground so that they were steadily moving down the hallway. Buffy avoiding hitting Kendra as much as possible, attempting to remain defensive. As an Empress she was far stronger than the girl and could easily take her out with one solid punch, but Spike had been right, she had no real desire to kill the other Slayer.

Eventually they worked their way into the cavernous main room of the Initiative. Spike was moving from pillar to pillar, planting the last of the bombs. Buffy’s long blonde hair was whipping around her head and shoulders as she ducked and blocked Kendra’s increasingly desperate attacks.

“Okay, last one is done. We can get out of Dodge now. Time to end this, your Grace.” Her vampire was standing by the rail to the pit where many of the experiments had taken place. He didn’t appear to be contemplating the atrocities committed on him in that hideous dungeon, in fact…

“Are you watching my ass?” She aimed a high kick at Kendra’s head that the girl was barely able to avoid. The other Slayer was getting tired.

“Maybe?”

Buffy laughed. She caught both of Kendra’s fists in her palms and sent the girl stumbling backwards. The Empress shifted her face to that of the Slayer inside. Kendra looked up and her eyes widened. “Stay where you are!” Buffy said, her voice low and rich with authority. She glanced at her mate, his eyes were heavy lidded and he reached down to adjust himself in his jeans. He was too easy.

With one clawed hand the Empress pulled Kendra to her feet. The girl whimpered. “Didn’t they tell you?” Buffy cocked her head to the side. “All that Slayer power? It’s demonic in origin. Which means that since I am the Empress, you have no choice but to obey.” She snuck another glance at Spike. He was smiling and had a hand in one of the front pockets of his jeans. He probably wasn’t looking for his keys.

She refocused on Kendra’s frightened face. “Take your Watcher and leave Sunnydale. This place is mine.”

“Freeze.” A tough female voice rang out, echoing in the large room.

The Empress dropped Kendra, who cowered at her feet. Buffy spun, her eyes landing on a middle-aged woman that had a gun at her mate’s temple. Spike was pressed back against the railing, his hands empty and held out wide.

“Sorry, luv,” he muttered.

“Who are you?” The Empress’ voice was a lash.

The woman sneered. “Maggie Walsh.”

Buffy recognized the name from the information her Watcher had briefed them on about the Initiative. “This was your place.”

“Is my place,” the woman spat. She dug the gun harder against Spike’s temple. The Empress growled, but her mate caught her gaze and winked one yellow eye at her.

Her fear fled. Of course her vampire had a plan. “Don’t hurt him,” she whimpered, taking a step to the side. “I’ll do whatever you want.” She took another step, forcing Walsh to turn her head slightly away from Spike in order to continue watching Buffy. 

“Halt,” Walsh snapped. Buffy did so, though every cell in her body protested. This woman thought she knew power. Her kingdom was tiny, her authority useless with no subjects. “Kendra, on your feet.”

The other Slayer shook, but didn’t move.

Walsh looked annoyed. The gun moved slightly away from Spike’s temple.  “Kendra! I said: get up!” The girl still didn’t budge.

The Empress took one more sideways step and laughed.

Walsh turned more to glare at Buffy.  The gun wavered further from her mate’s head. “Listen to me you demon wh-“

Spike roared. The muscles of his arm stood out in high relief as he reared back, braced himself against the railing, and rammed his claws into Walsh’s back. The gun clattered to the floor. The woman’s eyes rolled up into her head and Kendra screamed. Spike twisted and yanked his hand out of Walsh’s body.  Gore-smeared fragments of her spine stuck out from either side of his clenched fist. With his other hand Spike grabbed the toppling body and sent it over the rail to crash into the pit below. He threw the piece of backbone so it landed next to Kendra. “Run, little girl,” he snarled.

Kendra’s wide eyes looked to the Empress.

“Go now. Do as you’ve been told.” Buffy waved her hand in dismissal and the other Slayer took off at a dead run, heading towards the back entrance.

The Empress whirled around as her mate grabbed her, his lips landed on hers and he kissed her passionately. Her hands went around his shoulders as he dipped her slightly backwards over his arm. Buffy felt like she was flying.

After a few moments they reluctantly parted.

“How’re we getting out of here?” Spike asked, smoothing down her hair and running his claws lightly over her bare shoulders.

“Up the elevator shaft.”

“Power’s down to the backup of the backup. It’s going to be a hell of a climb.”

She bit her lip. “That’s not at all what I had in mind.” The Empress nodded towards the elevator doors. “Can you force them?”

Her mate made short work of the heavy metal doors. Obviously her blood was doing wonders for him.

She walked inside the elevator car and pointed up. “We’ll be taking the express route.”

They climbed up through the emergency hatch in the top of the car and the Empress readied her magic. It sung over the taut metal. Her mate secured one arm tightly about the cable and the other around her, his claws digging slightly into her hip as she looped her arms about his neck.

He pressed a brief kiss to her mouth. “I feel like bloody Errol Flynn,” he chuckled.

She had no idea who he meant but she smiled anyway and knew just what to say: “But you’re so much better looking!”

He grinned around his fangs and nodded that he was ready. Her power sliced through the metal and the counterweight started its descent, yanking them sharply heavenward. Spike let out a whoop, laughing as they flew upwards. His duster billowed and flapped around them. The Empress had to concentrate, stopping the ascent just as they reached the open elevator door in Lowell house. With a push off of the back wall of the elevator shaft with one foot, Spike swung them through the opening to land gracefully on the carpet.

‘Wouldn’t mind a second ticket for that ride.” He was grinning ear to ear. “And would you look at that? It was behind the sodding mirror this whole time. Right clever of them if you ask me.” He was examining the edge of the mirror. “Sealed so well even I couldn’t smell anything off.”

“Come on.” She gently pulled at the sleeve of his coat. Obediently he followed her out into the night, lighting a cigarette as they walked on the gravel path away from the frat house. The Scoobies were waiting for them at the end of the path, silhouetted by the lights from the dorm’s parking lot. “It’s time,” she announced and a feral smirk turned up the corners of her mate’s lips.

Behind them there was a series of muffled thumps followed by a much louder bang as the Initiative and Lowell House turned into a pillar of flame.

****

 The tweed of Mr. Giles’ jacket was rough under her fingertips as Joyce nervously brushed her hand back and forth along his arm.

“Joyce.” The Watcher stilled her hand by resting his over it. “I really do need you to be prepared. She might be in her guise as the Slayer and there’s a good chance she won’t recognize you.”

“And,” Joyce hesitated. “You said she’s married?”

Giles sighed. “More or less.”

“Do you know anything about the guy?” Joyce’s fingers were still twitching. She was having trouble understanding this. Her baby wasn’t dead, but she’d been somewhere else for a much longer time than had passed here in Sunnydale. Mr. Giles had declined to say where or exactly how long. And now Buffy was here for a visit and she’d married some guy.

“You might as well just come out and say it G-man, I don’t think Buffy’s mom needs that sprung on her on top of everything else.” Xander was sitting on the hood of a blue sedan, picking at the frayed hem of his jeans. His girlfriend, Anya, was sitting next to him.

Joyce’s mouth dropped open. “Sprung on me? What would you be springing on me? Rupert Giles you answer me this instant.” She couldn’t imagine what he would be trying to keep from her.

“Mrs. Summers.” The Watcher squeezed her hand tighter.  “I don’t suppose you remember your rather brief interaction with one William the…uh, Spike? He usually goes by Spike.”

“The vampire I saw my daughter with at the house right before she disappeared?”

Mr. Giles blinked owlishly at her. “She brought him to the house?”

“Yes…oh! My heavens, are you saying that’s who she married?” It was too much. Mostly she remembered bleached hair and leather. And wasn't he English? Since when had Buffy liked foreign boys?

“Technically her Slayer demon mated his vampiric demon, and-“

“He’s a vampire! Is he going to hurt her? Drink her blood?”

Mr. Giles made a noncommittal noise in the back of his throat.

Willow put a hand on Joyce’s shoulder. “They’re actually really cute together, all snuggly bunnies.” Anya yelped and hid her head against Xander. “At first it was more like he was her servant. He followed her around and sort of worshiped the ground she walked on. Now he does that, only with less kneeling and more time trying to suck her tonsils…yeah, they’re great together.”

“He saved me,” Tara said quietly. Oz was supporting the poor girl with an arm around her waist.

Oz tilted his head towards Lowell house. “There they are.”

Joyce put her hand over her mouth. Two figures had exited the frat and were striding towards them. She was straining her eyes, trying to make out her daughter’s face when the night turned to day. A pressure wave buffeted them as the ground vomited up flames. When she could see clearly again her eyes first fell on the leather clad form of the vampire, the ridges of his face thrown into stark relief by the orange fire. His dark coat fluttered behind him and beside him was…

Oh.

That was…

Buffy! It was her! But her face, it was all flat planes and harsh angles. Her eyes seemed to glow. Only it didn’t matter. It was still her baby. Joyce had let go of Mr. Giles’ sleeve and was running towards her daughter. 

****

The Empress cared little about the destruction happening behind her. It was a thing done. She wanted to return home and sort out the problems that would have cropped up in her absence. Her quarters were Spartan, a warrior’s room rather than that of royalty. It was time for that to change. A huge bed with soft sheets, perhaps a j’ashak skin rug in front of the fireplace. Her mate’s fair complexion would look lovely against the dark fur. 

From the group ahead of them a figure detached itself and was hurrying towards them. Beside her Spike halted. She stopped as well, looking up at him. “That’s…Slayer, I… your Grace…” She glanced back at the human coming to them and it was as if six hundred years evaporated in an instant.

“Mom!” She shook off her Slayer face as the woman engulfed her in a hug. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Spike take a step backwards and she shook her head. ‘Stay’ she mouthed to him. He stopped, a funny smile on his face. Buffy closed her eyes and wrapped her arms more securely around her sobbing mother. “I missed you, Mommy. I’m sorry.”

When at last they pushed away from each other Buffy looked over at her mate. He was still standing there, vamp face and cigarette gone. She tugged her mom over to him. “Do you remember Spike?” she asked, suddenly shy.

“ ‘Lo, Joyce.” He raised a hand like he was going to rub the back of his neck, then awkwardly stuck it out towards her mom instead.

To Buffy’s great relief her mom shook it and smiled warmly at him. “Hello, Spike. I hear you’re now my son-in-law.”

“Well…I suppose that’s one way to look at it.” His eyes desperately sought Buffy’s. She shrugged.

“Don’t worry, I don’t have an ax.” Joyce linked her arm with Spike’s. “Yet.”

Buffy giggled. Poor Big Bad, of everything he’d faced that day, it was her mother that scared him silly.

She trailed after them to the parking lot, ash raining down around them. As she walked under a streetlamp there was a flutter of wings. A white bird took off, swooping down low above their heads before disappearing into the night.

****

It was nearly dawn. Now that her mission was complete the Empress had insisted on returning to her home dimension as soon as possible. All the Scoobies, along with Joyce and Tara, were arrayed around the living room in the Crawford Street Mansion.

Buffy had initiated the process that would  open the portal to take them back to her home dimension. Spike wasn’t sure exactly what he was going to find on the other side of that portal, only that he had nothing to fear as Buffy’s mate.

He rocked back on his heels as he watched the Empress say tear-filled goodbyes to her friends. It’d been gut wrenching to listen to her explain that she couldn’t stay, that she would become a danger to them as eventually her need for control, for power, would change the entire world.

As he watched her and her mother clinging to each other he spoke up. “Can’t you at least write back and forth?”

“How?” Buffy asked, her brow crinkled.

“I don’t know that part,” he admitted.

“Oh!” Willow stood up. “I think I’m having an idea!” She grabbed two decorative metal bowls off of a nearby end table and handed one to Tara. “We can link them.”

The blonde witch’s eyes lit up. “Just give us a few!”

“I promise to write once a year.” Buffy told her Mom.

Joyce frowned. “That’s not very often.”

“The time difference.” Buffy laughed. “I don’t want to snow you under with paper.”

A hand clamped on Spike’s shoulder.  The vampire looked up into the Watcher’s watery eyes. Giles took off his glasses and squeezed the bridge of his nose. “Spike…I…take care of her for me.”

“I will Watcher. I will. Can’t stop you from worrying about the girl, though, can I?”

Giles smiled ruefully. “I suppose not.”

The witches ran back in the room just as the portal started to crackle to life. Willow shoved one of the bowls into Buffy’s arms and Tara handed the other to Joyce.

The Empress smiled at her friends and held up the shiny bowl. “If there’s an apocalypse, write me.” She held out her hand to Spike, and he intertwined his fingers with hers. Buffy gave a last wave to her friends.

Hand in hand with his mate Spike walked into the glowing portal, towards a future he couldn’t begin to imagine, but that he couldn’t wait to experience.


	6. Epilogue

His golden Empress was reclining on the soft fur of the j’ashak skin rug, a cheery fire snapping and crackling in the fireplace to keep her from feeling chilled in the brisk night air that wandered through the open window.  She was naked with her long blonde hair tousled, red lips swollen, and limbs languid as she lay on her back. Altogether she looked utterly debauched, which worked since he’d spent the better part of the last…several hours having his wicked way with her.

Spike set down his cup of Gorlan wine-3326, a good year-and slumped a little in the comfortable chair he was ensconced in. He watched as Buffy drew a finger up and around the hard pink tip of one breast. She licked her lips, biting down on the bottom one with the tip of an adorable little fang. A single drop of blood meandered down her chin. The scent hit his nose and his prick was immediately hard again, the insatiable minx.

“Keeping you pleased is an impossible job, your Grace.” He cupped his balls, rolling his heavy sack in his fingers before moving up to grab the base of his rigid cock. With a groan he stroked himself, his Empress’ eyes following every movement.

“It is a dirty job, but someone has to do it.” Her fingers were plucking the stiff peaks of her nipples. She always did like a bit of look-see. “So what does my poor, put-upon vampire want?” Her lower lip stuck out in a pout.

Spike squeezed his shaft a little harder, using a thumb to swirl the drop of moisture that leaked from the tip into the sensitive skin of his cock’s almost purple head. The Empress pushed herself up on her elbows, her attention rapt as he worked himself. “What I want, pitiable fellow that I am, is for her Imperial Majesty to crawl over here, get on her knees, stick my hard cock in her mouth, and suck me off.”

“Yes, your highness.” She rose to her hands and knees and wiggled her cute little ass as she crawled to him. Running her hands up over his knees and down his thighs, she paused just shy of touching his balls. Leaning forward, she sucked one testicle into her hot little mouth, swirling her tongue over and around it. He moaned and continued to rub a tight fist up and down his length. With a knowing little smile she let go of his ball, nipped at his coarse pubic hair, and welcomed the other testicle into her mouth. She hummed and sucked delicately at it, the barest hint of fang touching the soft skin.

This time when she let his ball go, she wrapped one of her hands around his as he jerked his cock.  Buffy avidly watched as their hands slid over his erection. When she tried to still his arm and push away his hand he clucked at her. “Changed my mind, luv. I think I’ll just come all over those perky little tits of yours. Why don’t you shake them and give us a good show?”  The Empress bit her lip and frowned. Spike had to suppress a chuckle.

“No, I want to taste you.” She tried gently pulling at his hand again, but he resisted and kept on jacking himself. Buffy snorted daintily. “Spike!”

“What, pet?”

She growled, frustrated.

Anticipation curled through his belly. “Something wrong?”

“Stop!” Command and power rippled through her voice.

Ah, there was his Empress.

Spike grinned as his hand fell away from his cock, leaving it resting on his belly. With an annoyed huff she leaned forward and licked his erection from base to tip before sucking it between her lips and working as much of his length as she could into her mouth.  Christ, she was amazing.

As she bobbed her head up and down, making the most enticing sucking sounds, he let his head fall back against the chair. It really was too bad that his berk of a Grandsire never got to see how far the _boy_ he’d treated like dirt had risen. Spike had a list of titles and honorifics nearly as long as Buffy’s, most of them won by brute force since his arrival. He lived in a bloody palatial castle and had the most marvelous mate in existence. He wove a hand into her long hair, tenderly cradling the back of her head.

An unearthly roar sounded from the courtyard below their window.

“Looks like that little present from the DaNoth clan has arrived. You’ll be expecting me to fight the blasted thing tomorrow night I suppose. What is it? Nine? Ten feet tall and at least a ton in weight? Do I at least get to have a sw-“

The Empress paused her ministrations long enough to mumble ‘shut up, Spike’ around his cock.

“Yes, your Grace.”

A few more minutes and her talented tongue had him panting and close to shooting his load down her throat.

The smell of magic permeated the room and Buffy stopped, looking pointedly at the metal bowl beside his chair. With a sigh he grabbed the folded note that’d appeared in it. He opened the missive and Buffy’s cheeks hollowed out as she returned to her task.

“It’s from your Watcher.” He hissed in a breath as she grazed him with her teeth. “Fancy taking a little...oh, god, Buffy… dimensional jaunt to kill a hell god?”  Of their own accord his hips started thrusting gently. “Sounds like…like your friends… have gotten themselves in a right…Christ, woman… pickle.”

Buffy removed her mouth from him, her blazing silver eyes meeting his. He quirked up an eyebrow. “Sure.” She shrugged. “It won’t be the first one I’ve destroyed. Now come for me.”

She slid her mouth down his dick until he felt it bump the back of her throat. Spike was helpless to do anything other than obey. His hips bucked up off the chair and as he came in his mate’s mouth his roar was louder than the hell beast’s in the courtyard.

The Empress was well pleased.

~FIN~


End file.
